A Day Early, A Dollar Short
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Bad things happen when our favorite ex-outlaws separate and this time is no different.
1. Chapter 1

A change in his horse's gait caused Hannibal Heyes' head to jerk upright and he blinked in the harsh sunlight. The bay gelding's usual long, smooth walk had become jarringly shortened as it negotiated a particularly rocky section of trail. He'd fallen asleep in the saddle, bone-tired, and still a long way from Denver.

Heyes felt the back of his neck burning from exposure so he turned up his shirt collar to shade the skin not covered by his bandana. August had so far been unrelentingly hot and the mountains were as dry as he'd ever seen them. Grasshoppers clacked noisily out of the way of his gelding's hooves and the sere brush crackled and rustled as they passed by. Wildflowers had bloomed and died premature deaths. The aspen trees were turning weeks early, many golden leaves already scattered across the trail. Lakes he'd passed were drying up, banks revealed in concentric rings of baked soil, small turbid puddles all that remained. The streams and creeks that fed them trickled lifelessly and it had proven a major challenge to keep both horse and rider hydrated, contributing to his exhaustion. Heyes could smell smokiness in the air and wondered how close the nearest fire was—they were everywhere this summer. He'd seen a huge column of black, oily smoke reaching for the sky to the west of the Divide; too far away to be dangerous yet a constant, ominous reminder of the severity of the current drought.

Patting his chest pocket, he felt the bulge of the packet he'd been given by his fellow ex-outlaw, Sheriff Lom Trevors. The latest in a long line of new territorial governors of Wyoming was very eager to have his missive delivered to Colorado's governor quickly and discreetly. Lom had made big hints this could be the job to win them the amnesty they'd long awaited but only if it was completed by next Friday. If they were delayed, the governor would not be forgiving. That's why Heyes was riding alone. Kid Curry, his partner, had come down with a bout of food poisoning after eating at the saloon in Porterville and had been so sick Heyes had reluctantly left him holed up there so the delivery wouldn't be late. The Kid would rest up until he felt better and reunite with him in Denver before Friday noon.

The unmistakable sound of a cocking gun disturbed his reverie and caused him to reflexively reach for his own weapon.

"I wouldn't do that, Heyes. I got a bead on the back of your head, you'll be dead afore you hit the ground," growled someone behind him.

Carefully, Heyes eased his hands up in the air, his right still gripping the reins.

"That's better," said the disembodied voice. "You know the drill-left hand, two fingers, and real, real slow and careful-like." Heyes' Schofield landed with a soft thud and a puff of dust before he heard the noisy approach of his captor. A man stepped into his field of vision, picked up his gun, and moved a safe distance away from both horse and rider. "Good. You keep listenin' and you'll keep breathin'."

"Mister, I don't know who you think I am, but…"

"I damned well know who y'are. You're Hannibal Heyes and you're worth ten large to me dead or alive so shut your trap and git off your horse."

Heyes studied the man briefly. He was gaunt, greasy blond, sported a thick droopy mustache, and his sharp, dark eyes stared into his own. They held no fear, only resolution. Without breaking eye contact, Heyes slipped out of the saddle, his hands still raised.

"Now take off your boots."

"What?"

"You heard me, take off the boots. I ain't askin' again."

Awkwardly, Heyes lifted his left boot and slid it off, then his right. He stood up and gave the man a defiant glare, but the lean man simply lowered his gun slightly and fired. With a strangled cry, Heyes fell to the ground clutching his wounded foot and cursing foully. His horse skittered away, terrified, as he rolled in the dust for a few minutes trying to master the pain while his tormentor holstered his weapon and watched impassively. Finally, he lay curled up in the dirt, gasping for air. The man stepped forward, pulling a set of handcuffs from an inner pocket, roughly yanking him up into a sitting position, and expertly securing his arms behind his back.

"Son of a…, what'd you do that for?!" Heyes' ground out through gritted teeth.

For the first time, the man allowed himself a smile. "Insurance."

Heyes looked up at his captor, confused. "What?"

The man gave him a filthy, tobacco-stained grin. "Everyone knows you're a slippery devil. This way, if you do git away from me, you ain't gonna git far."

With a groan, the dark-haired man sank onto his back, his foot throbbing painfully, his sock soaked with blood, the bullet having gone clear through. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"Cyrus Elwood Lamford, at your service," the man said with a slight bow. "You can call me Mac."

Trying to push the pain out of his consciousness, Heyes focused on the conversation. If he could keep Lamford talking, he might find a way out of this. "Mac? Why Mac?"

The dirty man, shrugged. "I like Mac, don't like Cyrus or Elwood."

"So why'd you tell me your whole name?"

"'Cause that's what my mama christened me, God rest her sweet soul." Turning away from his prisoner, he walked over to the two horses, snatched up their reins and led them back. "Where's your partner? I been followin' you since the border and I ain't seen hide nor hair of 'im."

Heyes was relieved to hear it. He had no way of knowing whether the Kid was a mile or a hundred miles behind him; not that he didn't hate knowing he was on his own. He shook his head ruefully. Something always went wrong when they separated. "We split up."

Mac chuckled. "You think I'm beef-headed? You don't go nowhere without Curry watchin' your back."

"Do you see him watching my back?" Heyes struggled up again, wincing but thinking as fast as he could. "We had a dust up a few months back. Broke us up."

"Yeah? What about?"

Figuring a partial truth might be convincing, Heyes said, "I quit outlawing, the Kid didn't want to."

Mac roared with laughter. "The great Hannibal Heyes, retiring?"

"Why not? I'm not getting any younger. Look at me. Do I look like a big-shot outlaw?"

Heyes' dusty, old gray coat and the worn holster around his hips made Mac hesitate. He'd seen Heyes robbing a train a few years ago. He'd been all duded up with a silver-conchoed gun belt and silk vest. The only thing left was the fancy black hat and it, too, had seen better days. "You do look a mite down on your luck."

"Yeah, the lawful life don't pay so well," muttered Heyes. Mac grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Heyes stumbled as his wounded foot touched the ground and cried out, "Hey, take it easy!"

"Don't matter none to me where Curry is as long as he's not here. The ten grand I'll collect on you is more'n enough to feather my nest without tanglin' with the likes o'him." His eyes narrowed as he noticed Heyes' bulging chest pocket. "What you got there?" He reached out and pulled the governor's packet out, holding it up by the corner and squinting at the lettering. "This yer cash, Heyes?"

Heyes moaned, both from pain and defeat. He had no idea what the packet contained, but he knew he could kiss the amnesty goodbye if Mac took it.

Tucking the reins under his arm, Mac tore open the large manila envelope and peered inside. "Ain't nothin' in here but some damned paper." Unable to read, he threw it aside; several sheets of paper spilling out and scattering. "C'mon. We're gonna git your tail back in the saddle and head on into Denver so's I can cash you in."

Heyes kept glancing over his shoulder at the torn envelope as he was dragged by his arm, hopping as best he could to keep up, towards his horse.

XXX

Kid Curry reined his horse up at the top of a small rise. The animal was lathered on its neck and chest and blew its nostrils to clear them of the trail dust before he lifted his shaggy head and sniffed the air inquiringly.

"I know, buddy, I'm hot and thirsty, too," said the Kid, "but we've gotta catch up with Heyes."

The horse snorted disdainfully.

"How 'bout we find us some water and then we press on?"

Shaking its head, the horse started to paw.

"Hey, I ain't feeling so good either. If anyone should be bellyachin', it's me," said the Kid unaware of the irony. "Lom's the one who screwed up. He told Heyes Friday instead of Thursday. Now I'm the one bustin' our butts makin' sure the governor's packet arrives Thursday like it's supposed to. C'mon." Curry gave his irritated mount a boot in the sides and together they half-slid, half-leapt down the hillside.

XXX

The lengthening shadows foretold dusk's arrival but Heyes hardly noticed. For the past few hours, he'd ridden along slumped in the saddle, uninterested in his surroundings, his wounded foot out of the stirrup and banging painfully every stride. Looking down, he saw the bleeding had stopped and his sock was drying but not before his mount's side had been dyed red. At least the wound was clean by now. He must've leaked a gallon of blood. No wonder he felt light-headed. He wiggled in his saddle, trying to ease the ache between his shoulders.

"Stop squirmin' about. We're stoppin' up ahead for the night," said Mac.

"It's about time," grumbled Heyes.

"What'd you say?"

"I said, I'm fine."

"You did, huh? Don't look so fine to me. Nosiree, you look like somethin' the varmints got," laughed Mac, leading Heyes' gelding into a small copse of blue spruce and halting. He swung a leg over his saddle horn and slid to the ground. Walking back to his captive, he smiled as he examined the damaged, swollen appendage. "Looks pretty sore." He reached for Heyes' arm and yanked him out of the saddle.

"Argh," cried out Heyes as he hit the ground before he clamped his mouth shut. He be damned if he'd give this sadist the pleasure of knowing how much he was hurting. He struggled up and limped over to the largest tree. Leaning heavily against it, he lowered to the ground, his injured foot out in front of him. Once seated, he glowered at Mac while the man went about the business of setting up camp.

Chores completed, Mac started a fire and put a pot of hot water on to heat up.

"You gonna clean up my foot?" asked Heyes.

Mac gave him a tight, mean smile. "Why would I waste precious water on the likes of you? I'm makin' coffee."

"What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothin', but you done enough to others. I ain't here to pamper you, Heyes. You're lucky I didn't just put one between your eyes. Might've been easier. Still could, I guess."

"Could you at least uncuff me?"

"Nope, don't see no reason to."

"How am I gonna drink?"

"You ain't." Mac grabbed a lead rope and walked over to Heyes. Squatting down, he tied Heyes to the tree and gave the rope a tug. "Ain't gonna eat neither. Way I see it, the weaker you are the less trouble you'll be. Soon you'll be someone else's problem. Right now, your mine and less'n you want me solvin' my problem the easy way, you'll shut up and leave me be." He stood and returned to the fire, ignoring his prisoner for the rest of the evening.

Heyes watched him warily until Mac kicked dirt over the spent coals and crawled into his sleeping bag. He kept watching until he was sure from the loud snores that Mac was asleep. Only then did he relax and let sleep seep into his own spent body.

XXX

The three quarter moon and the small lantern he'd lit allowed the Kid to continue along the clearly defined trail at a slow walk until late into the night, but both he and his horse were fading fast. He didn't want to risk killing the animal nor did he want to waste time sleeping. If he and Heyes failed to deliver the packet on time, it would spell trouble for their amnesty chances. They'd come too far and worked too hard to fail.

He lifted the light higher to illuminate the rocky ground and, as the shadows fell back, he noticed something out of place. A piece of paper, trapped by a chokecherry bush, fluttered in the soft night breeze. He stopped his horse and dismounted, carrying the lantern with him. Carefully, he extricated the sheet and held it up to the lantern. His eyes widened as he read. He lifted his head and looked frantically about, the lantern casting its glow. He saw another sheet and then another even further away. When he reached the third one, he saw the manila envelope half-covered with dirt. Running to it, he snatched it up and turned it over. It had been torn open but it was unmistakably the packet Heyes had been carrying. Swinging the lantern around, light bounced crazily off trees and shrubs, until the Kid saw what he'd dreaded finding. A large stain of blood.

His knees weakened and his hand rested on his gun butt as he issued a soft curse. Why did things always go so wrong when they split up?

XXX

Dawn saw Heyes and Mac in their saddles. The night had been long for Heyes. His foot continually woke him up and his thoughts made sure to keep him up. No matter how he'd looked at it, he was in terrible trouble. Mac had coolly crippled him. There was no way he was getting away on foot. But, in the wee hours of the morning, he'd come up with a desperate plan. One he was waiting to hatch. Heyes knew this country well from his outlaw days. The narrow trail they were on would skirt along a cliff face in the next mile.

Heyes bided his time, running past robberies through his mind in great detail—anything to take his attention off the pain creeping up his leg. He'd seen the red tendrils of infection snaking up his calf from under his sock and he knew he was beginning to fever.

As the land fell away to his left steeply, he focused all his attention on the back of the rider ahead of him. Mac's horse was tipping his head to one side, peering down the steep drop off. Heyes waited until the narrowest section of the trail before raking his heels into his horse and screaming with anger and pain. The frightened bay charged forward, all four hooves digging into the trail with terror, and plowed into the hind end of Mac's horse, sending it off the trail and plummeting down the hillside, its legs frantically trying to keep up with its body. Both horse and rider tumbling end over end.

The bay galloped on, his rider bouncing crazily from side to side with his hands tied behind his back.

XXX

To be continued


	2. A Day Early, A Dollar Short - Chapter 2

Struggling to stay centered in the saddle, Heyes ignored the pain that shot through his shoulder and his dangling, wounded foot every time he careened against the sheer cliff wall to his right. To his left was a steep slope of several hundred feet falling away from the rocky, precarious trail his horse was madly racing across, the lead rope whipping between all four legs. So far the animal had managed to remain upright but one wrong step, or a shift in weight, could send both horse and rider to their deaths.

Heyes could see the widening of the trail as it cleared the cliff and snaked along a forested slope, but he wasn't sure they'd make it. Sheer will kept him mounted as the bay made one more crazed leap before landing on softer soil. They plunged into the trees and the horse galloped, unaided, until it began to slow. First to a jog then a breathless walk before stepping on its lead rope and stopping altogether, dropping its head to anxiously tear the sparse, tall grasses on the forest floor. Heyes panted along with the bay, both of their hearts racing from exertion and adrenaline. He attempted to guide his horse using his legs and body, but the gelding was still too shaken to respond. Together, they wandered off the trail and into the trees. As Heyes' heart rate slowed, fatigue and fever overcame him and he tumbled to the ground rolling over onto his back and staring up at the sky, inert. His eyelids closed. The horse continued nibbling, drifting further and further away, contented to be relieved of him.

XXX

A hollow grumble issued from the Kid's stomach, closely followed by a thunderous belch from his mouth. His horse's ears swiveled towards him noting the sounds as it jogged along the trail.

"Um, sorry, guess I should've had more breakfast before we started out." The thought of food brought an instant wave of nausea. "Or maybe not." He hadn't eaten much since the night before last and had yet to recover his appetite. He'd managed to down a small piece of dry biscuit early this morning but, rather than curbing the hunger pangs, it had set his gut to roiling. At least, the food had stayed where it was supposed to, but he was feeling light-headed and weak. They'd had a few hours rest in the early hours of the morning, but he'd spent half of it tossing and turning, worrying about his partner and letting his fear and anger build. He hoped whoever had Heyes wasn't in any hurry to get to where he was going, because the Kid was planning on sending him straight to Hell. With a click of his tongue, he sent his sorrel into a lope.

XXX

A weak groan roused Mac from his stupor. A shifting, heavy weight across his legs chased away the last vestiges of unconsciousness. Pain radiated through him before he bolted upright only to find he was pinned in place by his injured horse.

"Dickie! Aw, %$# *, Dickie!" The horse's leg was clearly broken and it was groaning with pain, too far gone with shock to thrash. Without wasting a moment, Mac slid his Colt from its holster and leaned towards the prone head. Gently positioning the barrel of his gun where it would swiftly put the animal out of its misery, he pulled the trigger. A small jerk and the big brown eyes glazed over.

Mac's eyes welled up and tears spilled, coursing down his cheeks. He sobbed like a baby, gulping and sniffing, for several minutes before pulling himself together. "Heyes is gonna pay for killin' you, Dickie boy. You was the bestest pony that ever was." His rough hand lovingly stroked the glossy, soft neck as the skin cooled. "I swear to you, he'll pay." His pledge made, Mac began using his bare hands to dig out his immobilized legs. His nails broke and his fingers bled, but his furious grief fueled his determination.

XXX

The faint echo of a gunshot reverberated across the peaks. Curry pulled up his horse and sat for a moment but he couldn't be sure where it came from. He waited pensively hoping for a second shot to help him locate the source, but none came. His nerves tightened. The best he could do was to hurry along the trail he was on and hope that Heyes was still alive. Both he and his mount were worn out but his fear drove them on.

XXX

Dark eyes snapped open to the bark of a gun. Heyes' mind tried to catch up to his instinctual reaction as his bruised and battered body sat up. He moaned. His aching muscles screamed in protest while the throbbing in his foot penetrated his foggy brain. Twisting his arms, he tested the cuffs. The chain binding them together was too short to allow much give. He'd have to try to pick them. He wasn't worried, he'd done it blindfolded often enough, but how to get his lockpick from the sleeve inside his hat band; the hat band that was on the hat dangling from his neck?

Swinging his upper body, Heyes worked the hat around so it was hanging against his chest and caught it between his knees. He dropped his head and, after several failed attempts, his teeth trapped the small knot of leather securing the band to the crown. Yanking and pulling and ultimately chewing, he worked the lacing loose and the band slipped to the ground. Again using his teeth, he picked it and a considerable amount of soil up before looking around for something to lay the strap on so he could work on it without eating another pound of dirt. A nearby downed pine tree was perfect. He shuffled along on his knees until he reached it. Tipping his head, he managed to lay it down inside up, the lockpick visible and resting securely in its pocket.

Heyes spit as much of the remaining grit from his mouth as he could. Using his open mouth to keep the band pinned, he fished at the lockpick with his tongue. Finally, he levered it up, closed his teeth on one end, and shaking his head like a crazed dog, the pick slipped free from the band. Heyes gave a stifled howl of pleasure as sweat dripped from his chin. Gingerly placing the pick on the tree trunk, he turned around and leaned back until his numbed fingers felt the tiny metal instrument. In seconds, his hands were free. As his arms swung to his side, he nearly fainted with pain. The nerves in the confined extremities shrieked with the shock of movement and he fell forward onto the tree trunk, panting as the blood flowed back in his arms and hands. At last, when he could feel the texture of the coarse bark and flex his fingers, he sat up and turned his attention to his real wounds.

Heyes pulled off his crusty sock and examined his foot. Luckily, the bullet had gone straight through leaving a large exit wound in its wake, but what sort of foul debris had it left behind? Poking both putrefying holes gently, ignoring the pain, he forced pus from them until blood freely flowed. Better the wounds healed from the inside out. His pants leg was stretched tight around his swollen calf and his attempts to roll it up failed. Using his lockpick as a dull knife, he slipped the tip through the material and tore at it until the fabric fell open. Fascinated, he traced the ugly, engorged veins from his ankle to his knee. He could see them pulsating with infection. If it continued unchecked, he would die.

XXX

Mac slid his legs out from under Dickie's carcass. They were sore and numb but as far as he could tell he was a very fortunate man. He reached across the corpse and tugged his Spencer from its scabbard. Opening the breech, he checked the load and set the weapon aside. Turning back to his saddle bags, he removed his small store of beans and coffee and tied each bag to his belt. Matches went in a shirt pocket and his good hunting knife was slipped into his gun belt. He un-cinched the saddle and slid the wool blanket from under it, draping it around his neck. Examining his saddle, he found the tree had broken in the fall. Another thing Heyes was gonna pay for. It had taken him years to break that saddle in so he could sit it comfortably for days but Mac had to admit he didn't need to be lugging forty pounds of leather while chasing down that no-good outlaw trash. His canteen of drinking water and the one he'd confiscated from Heyes had also been crushed by the weight of his dying horse. He'd have to make do.

Mac looked up the slope to the visible cut along the cliff face. It had to be a couple of hundred feet above him. He'd work his way back to the trail on an angle. It would cost him some time but the slope was too steep to scale and he was too sore. Besides, he was pretty sure Heyes wasn't going to get too far with a wounded foot and his hands tied behind his back even if he was still mounted. He gave Dickie one last regretful pat then picked up the rifle, grabbed his hat from where it had fallen, and walked away.

XXX

"Come back here, you worthless nag!" growled Heyes, heavily leaning on a forked, snapped-off tree branch as a makeshift crutch. His bay danced just out of his reach each time he neared, preferring to be free to graze at its leisure. Both reins had long since snapped off the bridle, but the obstinate beast still trailed the braided lead rope. It had taken almost all of Heyes' remaining strength to track the animal to the grassy meadow, but he'd had no choice. If he was going to survive, he needed his horse. Frustration was making the ex-outlaw angry and his face had purpled with exertion. Horses sensed these things so he forced himself to calm down and think about how to get the beast to come to him. That's when he remembered the peppermint candy in his shirt pocket. The waitress at the café had given it to him along with the check at breakfast. He pulled out the small candy and un-wrapped it. Placing it in the center of his palm, he held out his hand and whistled. The sound lifted the horse's head and it turned towards him. Seeing the offered hand, the bay remembered other tasty treats. His ears pricked up and he cautiously stepped towards his rider with his neck stretched out. His nose wiggled in anticipation until his lips close around the sweet. Happily, he crunched the sugary snack placidly while Heyes quietly reached out and gripped the lead rope. "Aha, gotcha!"

Clutching the rope and stumping along on the crutch, he led the bay to the closest tree and tied it securely. Balancing against the animal's side, he opened a saddlebag, and withdrew a spare rein. Lacing the proper end to one side of the bit, he knotted the split end to the other side fashioning a short, looped rein. He worked his way around the bay's hind end to the other saddle bag, pulling out some muslin bandaging, a bindle of powdered white willow bark, and a bottle of whiskey. His hands full, he dropped the crutch and hopped to another tree, putting his back against it and carefully sliding down it to a sitting position. He uncorked the bottle, taking a long draw from it then tore open a corner of the packet, shook a third of the contents into his mouth, and grimaced at the bitter taste before washing it down with a lot more drink as he considered what to do next. The willow bark should keep the fever down and ease some of the pain so he could clean the wound with the booze but it wouldn't take care of the infection working its way through his body.

There was some dried out skunk cabbage around a dried up waterhole in the middle of the meadow. He knew it, too, could relieve pain. Struggling to his feet, he slipped the branch under his arm and limped out into the patch of dying plants harvesting as many leaves as he could stuff in his pockets. Turning away from the waterhole, he scanned the forest undergrowth; he had to find chokecherry. It was plentiful around these parts and he remembered an old mountain man telling him the Indians used it on gangrene. His foot wasn't there yet, but it would be soon if he didn't do something now.

The chokecherry was easy enough to find but tearing the bark off took the use of his lockpick and a lot of effort. Winded and feverish, Heyes returned to his horse and sat down against the same tree. He picked up the whiskey bottle and drank some more. When he began to feel suitably fuzzy, he poured the some of the alcohol into the open wounds swearing huskily as the fluid burn into the raw flesh. Tearing the chokecherry bark into tiny shreds, he packed it into his wounds, gritting his teeth against the pain. He sprinkled the skunk cabbage on top, soaked it with some more whiskey, and wrapped the muslin around everything to hold it in place. It was the best he could do. One more swig and he was ready to try mounting.

Getting to his foot with difficulty, Heyes stowed away the remaining herbs and bandaging in his saddlebag. He retrieved his hat and the band, using a piece of latigo to tie the band back on before slipping the stampede strings over his head. He untied the gelding. He had one chance to vault into the saddle without doing any more harm to himself. Grabbing the mane, he tucked his forearm into the horse's shoulder blade, took a deep breath, and swung into the saddle, his sore foot clearing the cantle easily. Relieved, he took a moment to catch his breath before urging the horse on.

XXX

The Kid's sorrel plodded along at an exhausted walk. His rider's head pitched forward and his eyes strained to read the rocky ground. Game trails crisscrossed this section of trail making it difficult to discern tracks but telltale drops of spilled blood were still visible in the weakening afternoon light. Curry prayed the blood wasn't his partner's. Every few steps, the horse stopped and refused to move on. Finally, both horse and rider could go no further. The Kid dismounted, stiffly leading the sorrel to the lowest branch of an old blue spruce. He pulled the saddle from the weary creature, dropping it on the ground, and spreading out the saddle pad to dry. Giving the animal the last of their water, he stretched out on his bedroll.

Immediately, the Kid drifted into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with his worst nightmare.

Author's note: what is commonly called Skunk Cabbage in Colorado is also called Corn Lily. It is not the same plant as Eastern Skunk Cabbage and has different medicinal uses.


	3. Chapter 3

A Day Early, A Dollar Short – Chapter 3

A dark form highlighted by the morning light caught the Kid's attention as his horse carefully picked its way along the rocky trail. A turkey buzzard drifted lazily on an updraft, swirling gracefully in a circle, dipping and rising on the thermals above the aspen-shrouded mountain. How could something so ugly on the ground be so beautiful in flight, mused Curry? As he watched, another bird joined the first, performing an aerial ballet, then another, and another until a squadron of scavengers filled the air.

The Kid's stomach soured and it had nothing to do with his recent illness. There was only one reason for so many buzzards to flock together. He swallowed bile. He was torn between wanting to hurry along the trail skirting the cliff face and wishing he could manage to turn his horse around on the precipitous path and go back the way he had come. As he neared a tight bend, his eyes closed while he steeled himself against what he might find. He felt his horse turn the corner and tense up before erupting with a nervous snort. Blue eyes flew open to see one of the large raptors sink to the ground and hop towards the corpse of a dead horse reposed at the bottom of a long, gouged route ripped through the steep hillside. It wasn't hard to read what had happened. He'd been following two sets of tracks, now there was only one. The other had died a terrible death but even at this distance the Kid could tell it wasn't Heyes' bay and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God cared about ex-outlaws.

XXX

Mac fought through the thick shrubs, stepping over tangled roots, bending branches out of his way, and avoiding jagged, broken limbs. From the looks of it, Heyes' horse must've left the trail at a full gallop. He chuckled. Critter might just make his job a helluva lot easier. It wasn't hard to track the outlaw's path and he wouldn't be surprised to find Heyes skewered on a low-hanging tree branch. He'd be disappointed, though; he wanted the pure pleasure of snuffing Heyes.

He wished he'd just up and killed Heyes outright when they first crossed paths. If he had, Dickie would still be with him. He sniffed. Damned, he'd loved that horse beyond all reason; bred and raised him right there on the farm; broke him real careful for Andy. The boy'd only been eight when Mac had given him Dickie, but he'd manfully handled the responsibility of caring for the beast. He could still remember the look on Andy's face when he put him in the saddle for the first time. Both he and his son had been so proud. This time a tear spilled and he wiped it, and the memory, away on a grimy shirtsleeve.

XXX

A small rock tumbled downhill as Heyes and his bay wove their way through a stony field. He wished he could hurry the animal, but the footing was too treacherous. Concealing his tracks by using rocky ground was slow going at best and he didn't have a choice about which direction to take. Both man and beast were parched. They had to find water and water flowed downhill. He would follow the first dried up feeder stream he came across. He'd already decided against going back up to the trail, the climb would've taken too much time and energy. He was too weak and he couldn't be sure the fall had killed Mac. The man might still be after them.

His foot swung free of the stirrup. It was too painful to put any pressure on the swollen limb and he had to constantly shift position to keep his leg from contacting the saddle. It hadn't looked any better this morning when he'd cleaned it and changed the poultice, but it hadn't looked any worse. He'd have to be grateful for that. He was still feverish and fuzzy-headed and it took all his concentration to stay upright and not drift off to sleep. The tea he'd brewed from the chokecherry bark had helped take some of the edge off, but it'd tasted terrible. At least a generous dollop of whiskey had made the awful brew a little more palatable, but he'd missed his morning coffee and ended up washing out his wound with the rest of the concoction. Heyes patted his shirt pocket reassuring himself his bindle of white willow bark was still there. He'd save that for a last resort.

What day was it? He couldn't be sure. He was having difficulty keeping track of time but it didn't matter anymore. The amnesty was as good as gone, all those years, all that risk, and it was gone. Maybe it would be better to just lie down and die. The look on the Kid's face when Heyes told him he'd lost both the packet and the amnesty would kill him sure enough.

XXX

One of the buzzards turned to face the Kid as he crept towards the dead horse. The huge bird opened its beak threateningly and spread out its wings in warning. The others kept at their grisly meal. Each time he took a step forward, the angered bird would feint at him, snapping its beak and driving him back in a bizarre game of give and take. He had to get closer. He needed to see if there was another body hidden behind the huge corpse but he couldn't just shoot the feathered ghoul. What if the rider had survived? He couldn't risk a gunshot. The last thing he wanted to do was to let anyone know he was here. Losing all patience with the stalemate, he took off his hat and rushed at the birds, flapping his arms and hat. The scavengers coming in for a landing veered away, but the four on the carcass extended their wings, hissing at him, and bravely standing their ground. He skidded to a stop out of reach of their razor-sharp beaks and began lobbing small rocks and stones at them with deadly accuracy. He hit one in the face with a satisfying smack and the gruesome scrounger took to the sky, the others swiftly following.

The Kid circled around the body noting the bullet wound in the horse's damaged forehead. That explained the shot he'd heard. He breathed a sigh of relief before turning his attention to the empty rifle scabbard and crushed canteens attached to the broken saddle, recognizing one of the canteens as his partner's. He examined the saddlebags. Whoever had put the animal out of its misery had left a lot of gear behind. The man wanted to travel fast; he was going after Heyes on foot.

Turning away from the body, the Kid scanned the path of destruction coming down the hillside. A single, dusty boot lay discarded under a small bush and the Kid felt his blood run cold. It was Heyes'-the man had taken Heyes' boots. Was his partner still alive? He scrambled up to it and looked for the other, finding it midway up the slope. Angry and furiously cussing as he climbed the hillside, Curry retrieved the second boot. Descending, he saw a single set of tracks cutting across the slope, clearly visible, and he walked towards them until he could see the impressions deep boot heels had made sinking into the soft soil.

The advantage was the Kid's now. He and his horse were fresh from their long night's rest and the slow progress he'd made on the rocky trail. He hurried back to his horse, tied Heyes' boots on top of his bedroll, and mounted before riding away from the carnage.

XXX

Upon reaching the bottom of a narrow valley, Heyes found a damp streambed carved through the trees. He rode alongside it as much as the terrain allowed scanning the exposed rocks and stones until he found a small pocket of stagnant water. He reined up the bay and awkwardly dismounted; his head spinning. He steadied himself for a moment before tying the horse to a shrub. The animal shifted impatiently from leg to leg nearly as thirsty as its rider.

Heyes pulled the whiskey bottle from his saddlebag. He couldn't risk a fire to boil water, but he hoped the alcohol would kill whatever was growing in the dank liquid. Dropping to his knees with difficulty, he dipped the bottle into the pool filling it to the brim. He waited a few minutes and then drank thirstily, being careful to stop before the bottle was more than half empty, leaving some of the diluted whiskey. After re-filling and corking, he struggled to his feet using the branches of a thorny bush and gouging the palms of his hand before noticing the plentiful rose hips ripening along the banks. He knew he couldn't eat too many of them, they were too acidic. At least they'd provide some nourishment while his horse could forage on the brown grasses interspersed amongst the wild roses. A nicker drew his attention. His horse's ears were pricked in his direction, and the hopeful animal was pawing the ground.

"Easy, pal. Let me get this put away then you'll have your chance." He limped to the bay and tucked the bottle in the saddlebag, untied the reins, and led the horse to the water. The animal drank greedily, draining the pool dry. Heyes patted him, his mind on what to do next. Sooner or later, he'd reach civilization but could he last that long? The way he felt it wouldn't be long before he fell out of the saddle. He had to find a place to hole up until he got better or…didn't.

The horse began to wander along the streamside, tearing at weeds while Heyes leaned heavily against the saddle, taking the weight off his damaged foot. As his mount ate, he gathered the rose hips, eating some, and tucking more into empty pockets. He discovered a small patch of wild onions as well as a clump of prickly pear tucked behind a cluster of rocks. The fruit was long gone, but he broke off the smaller, thinner pads. Looping his arm through his horse's reins so the animal could continue feeding, he sat down on one of the rocks and used a sharp stone to carefully scrape off the needles from the cactus pads. A ray of sunlight penetrated the shelter of the trees and warmed the chill in Heyes' bones as he worked. He wasn't hungry, but he had to keep his strength up. The fever was wearing him down. Biting into a raw pad, he alternated between the cactus and the onions. The reins tugged gently at his arm as his horse grazed.

The last time he'd eaten cactus he and the Kid had been holed up in a box canyon hiding from a posse on their tails. Being on the run had taught them a thing or two about staying alive. As he chewed, his thoughts skittered aimlessly. Had Mac survived? Was he going to die alone? The Kid should be on his feet by now, but was he on the way yet? They'd always figured when they went, they'd go together. Heyes wondered if the Kid would ever figure out what happened to him or would his bones be scattered by animals, never to be found? As lurid images filled his fevered mind, his eyes grew heavy and his hands relaxed, his arm slipped from the reins. The last of his meal fell to the ground seconds before he did.

XXX

Hurting, Mac had slowed to a mincing walk carefully picking his way through the mixed spruce and aspen forest. Windblown trees impeded his progress forcing him to step over or around them. His stacked-heeled cowboy boots weren't made for hiking and he wished he'd kept the flat-heeled ones he'd taken from Heyes. He couldn't go any further. The sun was dipping below the mountainside and dusk would be coming on quickly. He'd camp here for the night and give his aching feet a rest. Limping over to a snagged tree, he sat down and tugged off one boot and then the other, moaning as he rubbed his blisters.

Adding to his discomfort, he'd lost Heyes' tracks not long after he'd found the clearing where the outlaw had shucked his handcuffs. It had taken a long time to skirt that rocky hillside and pick up a trail again. His hand dropped to the cuffs now dangling from his belt. How the hell had Heyes gotten out of them without a key and with his hands behind him? Mac had taken every precaution he could think of and the man had still gotten away. Everything he'd ever heard about Heyes appeared to be true. The man was wilier than the Devil himself. If and when he caught up to Heyes, he wouldn't make underestimate him again. This time, he'd plug him between the eyes the first chance he got.

XXX 

The big fire crackled merrily but the man warming his hands over the flames was morose. Worry was eating at Kid Curry and it wouldn't stop until he found his partner. He was pretty sure he was closing in on the man chasing Heyes and he'd hated having to stop for the night. He had to find Heyes before the man did. Trailing behind wasn't going to work and neither was blundering through the forest in hopes of stumbling across Heyes. So the Kid had come up with a plan.

He tipped his face up and watched the long column of smoke swirl upward. Satisfied that it could be seen against the dusky sky, he got up. His bedroll lay near the fire, stuffed with his saddle blanket and extra clothes. He glanced at his horse. Tied and unsaddled, the animal browsed on a small sapling. The stage was set. The Kid melted into the surrounding forest and waited.

XXX

The smell reached Mac's nose before he saw it. He looked up from his dinner of cold beans and watched the tendrils of smoke drifting across the canopy of trees. He waited for the plume to thicken into a forest fire but the billowing grayness simply dissipated into the sky. He had company. Could it be Heyes? Who else would be this far off the trail? Whoever it was, he'd check it out but he'd be damned careful doing it.

He waited a long time for darkness to settle around him, watching the flickering light of the distant campfire glow brighter through the heavy underbrush. When it was dark enough, he pulled on his boots before he picked up his gun belt and got to his feet. He buckled the belt, tied down his holster, and then walked slowly and silently toward the flames.

XXX

The Kid's eyes kept closing and he would occasionally nod off only to have the weight of his head awaken him again and again. Every once in a while he would shake his arms and legs to keep the blood pumping. The moon slipped slowly past the stars and was sinking to the east when a tiny sound roused him from his stupor. He'd heard something. He was sure of it. Revitalized, he peered through the trees, his attention keenly focused, as the sky lightened with dawn.

XXX

Mac felt around for another stone in the thick brush. He'd been watching the man sleeping and was getting tired of waiting for him to roll over. He knew it wasn't Heyes. Not unless he'd somehow managed to switch horses and gear in the middle of nowhere. But who else would be stumbling around in these woods? Could it be Heyes' partner? Mac needed to see the man's face. His fingers closed around another pebble and he pitched it at the sleeping figure raising a small puff of dust, but missed again. Damn it all! He had to get the man to roll over. No way was he getting within reach of Curry. If it was him, he'd shoot first and ask questions later.

XXX

Stealthily, the Kid crept up behind a man kneeling by a large bush. He was almost close enough to reach out when the man swung around, pistol in hand. Unconsciously, his own Colt leapt into his hand and his bullet sent the pistol flying from the man's grip.

"Aagh, $#%-don't shoot!" Mac thrust his pained hand in the air, the other hand gripping it tightly. Dark eyes peered at the Kid warily. Holding his gun on the man, Curry walked around him and retrieved the pistol, shoving it into his gun belt.

Mac followed him with his gaunt face. "I didn't mean no harm, mister. I was just trying to get 'im to roll over so I could get a good look at 'im 'fore I woke 'im up."

A cold, tight smile creased the Kid's face. "He won't be rollin' over. Or wakin' up."

Mac frowned. "You killed 'im?"

"I'm not in the habit of backshootin'.

"Me neither."

The Kid pulled out a corner of the governor's packet from inside his jacket and noted the glimmer of recognition in the man's eyes. "This says you are. Where's my partner?"

"I don't know where Heyes is, he got away. That's right, Curry, I know who you are," sneered Mac contemptuously. "So who's this?" he said, gesturing towards the bedroll.

"That's the oldest trick in the book and you fell for it."

Mac chuckled, "Your sneaky partner would be proud. Don't look at me like that, far as I know, he's still breathin'."

Murderous blue eyes glared back at him promising to snip the fragile thread anchoring Mac's soul to his body.

"You better hope he is."


	4. Chapter 4

"There, that oughta hold you," said the Kid, tightening the rope tying his captive's arms before uncoiling the remaining rope and cinching it around the saddle horn on his sorrel.

"How come you didn't use my cuffs?"

"Can't pick a rope." The Kid busied himself with rolling up gear inside his bedroll.

The tied up man scowled, "You plannin' on draggin' me?"

"If I have to. It's your call whether or not you stay on your feet."

"Ain't likely. I got blisters on my blisters."

The Kid eyed the stack-heeled boots and cursed softly under his breath. The man had forced Heyes to go barefoot. He ought to return the favor, but his prisoner had to walk, Heyes had been mounted. Telling himself he was being pragmatic and not soft, he pulled Heyes' boots from where he'd stowed them and a pair of heavy socks from his saddlebag. Ungraciously, he yanked off the offending boots, one at a time, pulled on the socks, and replaced the boots with the flat-heeled ones. Straightening, he glared at the gaunt man who stared back at him speculatively. "See that you keep up and don't slow me down, clear?"

A terse nod was the only reply, but a tiny grin tugged at the corner of the man's mouth. It was plain to the Kid he'd sensed weakness.

The Kid pulled his gun and pressed it his captive's forehead. Dark eyes stared at him almost hopefully. "What'd you do to my partner?"

A crocodile smile split the man's face. "If I tell you that, you're gonna kill me."

"Maybe I'm gonna kill you anyway. Why was Heyes' bleeding?"

"Wasn't his blood, I butchered a doe."

Pulling out the governor's packet, he held the stained envelope up. "Then how'd it get on the papers he was carryin'?"

"Weren't a clean shot. Doe jumped around a mite before I wrestled 'er down. Some of 'er must've splattered."

The Kid couldn't tell for sure if the man was lying although he strongly suspected he was. "What's your name?"

"Mac Lamford."

"Mac? That your given name?"

"No. It's Cyrus Elwood, but I go by Mac. Why?"

"I wanna know what to put on your headstone." Grimly, the Kid waited for a reaction and was surprised and somewhat disappointed not to get one.

"Mac'll do."

XXX

A rustling nearby tickled Heyes' consciousness and he slowly woke up scaring away a ground squirrel in the process. The sun's harsh light cut through the aspen leaves casting fluttering shadows across his face exacerbating a headache and causing him to squint. A cooling breeze made him shiver but the light felt hot on his skin and his mouth was parched. The pounding in his head was annoying but nothing could compete with the pain radiating in his foot. Where was he? Last he could remember he and the boys had been fixing to rob the Bank of Laramie. No, that wasn't right. They'd already pulled that job. He lifted his foot until he could see the makeshift bandage around it. He'd been wounded, but when? He didn't remember. His mind was almost fuzzier than his mouth. He was sick, hurt, and as far as he could tell, lost in the middle of nowhere. Where was the Kid? Surely he wouldn't have left him behind. What had happened? Did a posse get the Kid? Fearing for his partner's safety, he rolled over and got to his knees with a groan. His head swam with the movement. He reached out to the shrub next to him and grabbed a handful of branches to help him up.

A whiskey bottle lay on the ground nearby. He hobbled over to it slowly and plucked it from the dirt. Using his teeth to pull the cork, he upended it drinking greedily and draining it dry. With a grunt, he tossed the empty bottle aside ignoring the sound of shattering glass. He wandered over to the stream noting a small puddle of dirty water was all that was left. Hoof prints had torn the banks into a muddy mess and he wondered where the horse was that had made them. He must've ridden in but what happened to the animal? He circled around following the confusing tracks until he was distracted by a noise. He stopped, listening intently until he recognized the rhythmic thumping sound. Someone was chopping wood. Fevered and forgetting about the horse, he weaved unsteadily towards the sound scraping his way through the heavy forest and thick shrubs tearing at his sleeves as he used them to lever the weight off his injured foot. Leaves caught by the wind whispered his passing.

XXX

A muffled curse reached the Kid's ears as he followed Heyes' trail. He felt a pull on the lead tied to his saddle. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Mac struggling to his feet. The man was covered with powdery dirt and dried leaves were tangled in his hair after numerous falls. His dark eyes stared at the Kid but he didn't utter a sound before limping on. A moment later, he put his foot wrong and fell again.

Reining his horse up, Curry dismounted and walked back to where Mac lay on his back summoning his strength. "Get up!"

Mac looked up at him impassively. "Why? I'll just fall again. My feet are all torn up. I'd be better off if'n you pulled these boots and let me go barefoot."

"Suit yourself." The Kid seized Mac's leg and pulled off its boot. The sock underneath was spotted with blood from burst blisters. He pulled it off and examined the open sores. He grabbed the other leg only to find it wasn't any better. "Damn it." There was no way the man was going to stay upright.

"Go ahead, Curry. Finish me off. You know you want to," whispered Mac.

"Shut up and let me think!" Maybe he should leave the man here. Let him take his chances with the critters just like Heyes was doing. But without a horse and no way to walk that'd be as good as killing the man and the Kid couldn't do it. He'd always do what was necessary to take care of him and his partner, but he learned a long time ago how to make sure killing wasn't necessary. He reached down and yanked Mac to his feet then shoved him towards the horse. Grabbing Mac by the seat of his pants and the back of his neck he nearly slung the thin man into the saddle.

Surprised, Mac looked down at Curry, confused. "What're you doin'?"

"What's it look like? You ride. I'll walk for a while." Taking both reins, the Kid led the horse along the trail ignoring its bemused passenger.

XXX

Mac's eyes were glued to the blond outlaw's back. What was Curry playing at? Surely, he hadn't believed that cock and bull story about the doe. Why hadn't he been shot on the spot when they first met up? Kid Curry was a killer, everyone knew that, and he'd had the drop on him. Heyes had been exactly what he'd expected: cocky, smart, and devious plus he hadn't hesitated to send him and Dickey off that cliff. Mac was still kicking himself for that one and he wasn't about to let Curry pull one over on him. He might not care much one way or the other about dying, but he hated losing.

A puff of dust rose from the ground lifted by a dervish and swept quickly away. "Hey, Curry, you smell that? Smoke's comin'."

"I smell it. Wind's pickin' up and blowin' our way. Fire's too far away to be a problem."

"Guess I got somethin' to be thankful for," Mac chuckled.

"I wouldn't go feelin' lucky, if I was you."

XXX

The thumping sound had grown louder and more erratic. Heyes had gotten panicky and turned around once or twice when it ceased altogether but it soon picked up again. He was drawn to the noise like a moth to a flame. It rose and ebbed along with the sighing of the leaves. Through the trees, he could see a clearing. A small meadow with a tiny cabin tucked into a brown blanket of dried grasses. A single, ripped curtain fluttered in an open window. A corral stood to one side.

It was an old cow camp. Ranches drove their stock into the high country for the lush summer grasses and out again before the winter snows returned. Camps like this one provided shelter for the hands caught between changing seasons. The thumps were coming from the other side of the house. A hand must be stocking the camp for the coming cold. Heyes stumped along using a branch he'd picked up to help take some weight off his foot. As he reached the building, the sound stopped along with the beating of his heart. He plunged forward around the side of the house bursting into the front yard only to find it quite deserted. He twisted all around searching frantically for the chopper of wood. Where was he? Where was the wood? "Help," yelled Heyes. "I need help!"

As though in answer, a thump behind Heyes caused him to spin towards the front of the cabin. He watched as the wind caused the front door to swing shut in the frame and another hollow thump rang through the air. Stunned by his error and completely exhausted by the effort of reaching the source of the noise, Heyes stood rooted to the spot staring at the building. How had he mistaken that for chopping?

His fevered mind didn't take long to convince him he'd find help inside. Yes, that was it. The chopper was stacking the wood inside. All he had to do was go inside. But he couldn't move. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and a cold sweat trickled down his back. He was scared. He had no idea why, but he was terrified to walk through that door, the door that was continuing to mock him.

XXX

Curry, too, had reached a clearing and stood in it, also afraid. But his terror was for what he hadn't found. He hadn't found Heyes. Hoofprints and footprints were clearly visible in the soft sand next to the nearly dry streambed. Leading Mac, he began to walk slowly in an ever widening circle finding the evidence of Heyes' meal and the shattered whiskey bottle. He picked up the neck and peered through it before dropping it.

"Heyes must've thrown himself one heck of a party from the looks of that bottle," said Mac with a grin.

"Shut up." The Kid turned towards the footprints leading into the forest. Why would Heyes go on foot? Had his horse run off? It wasn't like his partner to be careless with his ride.

"You hear that?"

"I told you to shut up."

"It's his horse. See, there it goes again."

The Kid heard a faint whinny. A moment later, his sorrel bellowed an answer. The two horses called to each other as the crashing through underbrush grew louder. Heyes' bay burst out of the forest at a gallop and skidded to a stop next to the sorrel, arched its neck, and danced away.

"Hey, easy now," snapped Mac struggling to stay with his equally excited mount.

The bay skittered away as the Kid approached, its bridle dangling by an ear, the makeshift reins bunched behind the animal's ears. The saddle was scratched and Heyes' saddlebags were hanging from one side of it. The animal snorted at him and swung to face him. "That's a boy, good boy, take it easy." Slowly, he reached out and gently took hold of the rope rein. The horse lowered its head, and Curry slipped the bridle back into position and lifted the saddlebag into place behind the cantle, tying it down. He ran his hands over the animal, finding no injuries. "So where's your rider?" The big brown eyes looked mutely at him until he patted the bay's neck and slipped him a peppermint from his pocket.

Mac watched and listened as Curry reassured the nervous animal. The outlaw was not at all what he'd expected.

XXX

Screwing up his courage, Heyes crept towards the darkened doorway. He gulped as he stepped onto the front steps and a board creaked. "Hello? Anybody home?" he weakly called out. Failing to get an answer, he stood to one side of the door frame-just in case there was a load of buckshot waiting for him-and reached out, pushing to door inwards. Nothing happened. He stepped into the doorway and froze as he faced a large brown bear standing on her hind feet, her claws outstretched. Heyes screamed, the bear roared. The ex-outlaw leader fell backwards just as the beast charged. Still screaming, Heyes closed his eyes waiting for his flesh to tear, but the old sow shoved past him through the doorway and escaped across the yard. He lifted his head just in time to see the tail end of her disappear into the woods.

Gasping for breath, he fell back to the floor panting heavily until it turned to almost a sob. Collecting his wits, Heyes pulled himself up and surveyed his new lodgings. The bear had trashed everything left in the house. An old table was on its side and its chairs had been reduced to a pile of rubble. The bedframe was upended, bedding shredded, the mattress clawed open in several places. Broken crockery was scattered about. Old tins of food lay crushed on the floor, angry claw marks gouged into the wooden planks beneath them. A fine powdering of flour from a torn sack covered everything. Still, the roof looked solid and the four walls gave the sick man a feeling of safety.

Heyes shut and barred the door, righted the bedframe, dragged the mattress on it and, with the last of his strength, gathered up the shredded bedding tossing it onto the bed. Finished, he fell down into the nest. He chuckled ruefully thinking about the bear and how they'd taken years off each other's lives. Thank goodness, he'd scared her as bad as she'd scared him. There was no room in this cabin for the two of them.


	5. Chapter 5

The smoke increased as the afternoon wore on and the Kid could feel his eyes watering and his throat was sore, the taste acrid in his mouth. Mac had taken to coughing every once in a while. Curry heartily wished the man would choke to death and relieve him of the burden of keeping an eye on him. With both of them mounted, he'd had to split his attention between his captive and the tracks he was having difficulty following. Barefoot, Heyes wasn't leaving much of a trail, only areas of soft soil and broken branches signaled his passing.

When the Kid saw the tiny cabin in the meadow, he thought he was imagining it. It appeared out of the haze like a mirage. A trail of trodden grass led from where his horse stood at the edge of the forest around the side of the decrepit building. How the hell had Heyes known this place was here? Spurring his horse and yanking Mac and the bay along behind, Curry rode up to the front of the house and leapt from his saddle. He untied the rope securing Mac and yanked him off the horse before roughly pushing him up the stairs and through the door ahead of him.

The Kid's Colt was out of its holster and at the ready. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw what appeared to be a pile of torn fabric heaped upon an old iron bed frame. A soft squeaking of the coiled springs was his only clue the bed was inhabited. Gripping Mac by his forearm, he dragged him to a support post in the center of the room and tied him to it before turning his attention to the bed. Heyes' face appeared, deep red with beads of moisture dotting his skin. Gently, Curry touched his forehead and snatched back his hand, shocked by the heat. He pulled a torn blanket off and shook the revealed shoulder, but Heyes only mumbled incoherently unable to awaken. When the Kid's gaze reached his partner's filthy bare feet and he saw the crude bandage, he rounded on Mac.

"What the hell did you do to him?" yelled the Kid.

Mac shrugged dismissively. "I didn't want him running away so I shot him. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Curry seized the bound man by his shirt, his eyes blazing with hate. "You sonova…"

Calm, brown eyes looked back at the Kid. "You two are wanted dead or alive. I figured I was doin' him a favor."

The Kid felt a murderous rage exploding in his heart, but he knew if he gave into it he'd become what he'd always feared. With a frustrated growl, he released Mac and returned to kneel down by Heyes. How was he going to care for him with no medicine? As the dark head thrashed from side to side, he whispered quiet encouragement until the restlessness passed then turned his attention to Heyes' foot. Carefully, he cut through the tattered skunk cabbage leaves with his pocketknife. The leaves fell open exposing the angry wounds and the marked signs of a deeper infection brewing within. He could tell Heyes had done a good job of keeping the wounds as clean as he could but they were still festering. Hurrying outside, the Kid grabbed a bar of soap and a clean towel from his saddlebags and pulled the canteens from the horn. He'd seen a well on the east side of the cabin as they'd ridden up.

XXX

As soon as Curry left, Mac tugged against the ropes binding him but it was no use. Giving up, he let his gaze sweep the cabin. A fine film of dust and mouse turds covered every surface and footprints, both man and animal, were visible on the rough plank floors. A bank of cabinets hung over a makeshift counter on one wall, doors sagging open, rusted cans visible. No one had visited this place in years and it showed. A pane was missing from one of the windows facing the rear and he saw Curry as he passed by.

He was confounded by the young outlaw. He'd seen the raw desire for revenge in the Kid's eyes and had watched the fight for control play out across the man's face. Truly, he was stunned he was still alive. Curry clearly wasn't the stone cold killer his reputation made him out to be. Men had been killed for far less than what Mac had done to Heyes.

The sickened man shifted uncomfortably on the filthy bed. Groans and mumblings erupted from Heyes until the outlaw rolled over and opened his eyes, staring straight at Mac. Heyes cried out, "Pa, please help me," and, against all reason, Mac felt a shiver down his back and an unwelcomed stab to his heart.

XXXX

Grayed, warped boards covered the mouth of the well and the Kid savagely yanked them off, tossing them aside. He hung over the well's edge and peered down into its depths but it was too dark to see the bottom. A wooden pulley was mounted on a beam set across the rocked perimeter and a frayed rope tied to a rotted pail hung suspended over the opening, the end of it secured to a ring set into the masonry. He untied the rope and pulled the bucket towards him. Using his knife, he cut the bucket away and tied the canteens to the severed end. Scooping up small stones he found in the yard, he weighted the canteens so they would sink then he lowered them into the well holding his breath until he heard the splash as they struck water. He gave the canteens time to fill before hauling them up and screwing the caps back on. He'd need to boil the water before he cleaned Heyes' wound. Putting the canteens around his neck, he gathered up two of the smaller boards, tucking them under one arm before rushing back to the front of the cabin.

XXX

"Fire!" screamed Heyes, jerking upright and startling both Mac and the Kid. The former had been peacefully dozing slumped against the post while the latter had been outside building a fire using the broken chairs and splintered boards. Curry had only just returned from placing Heyes' cookpot filled with water on the open flames. He was stopped short by the terrified cry from his partner.

"Hey, hey, it's all right. The fire's a long ways away, it ain't gonna hurt us," said the Kid, soothing his partner while gently urging him to lie back down.

"The barn! The raiders are burning our barn!" Heyes fought the Kid but he didn't have the strength to resist and he fell back.

"Naw, Heyes, you're just smellin' smoke."

"But…but they got Ma, Jed. They…they…," Heyes couldn't finish, what he was seeing in his mind was so horrific he was at a loss for words, his face drained of all color despite his high fever, his eyes wide open and bright with fear and illness.

The Kid glanced over his shoulder at Mac who was listening, his own face pale. There wasn't anything he could do about the audience and he turned back to Heyes. "Easy now, partner. It's all right, you're just havin' a bad dream." He held onto his friend's flailing arms until he felt them weaken and, with a strangled whimper, Heyes stilled.

Weakly, Heyes protested, "But Pa…I have to help him."

Stroking the dark, sweat-soaked hair, Curry lowered his voice. "Heyes, you're all mixed up. That was a long time ago. Your pa's past helpin'. No one's hurtin' now, 'cept you." Eventually, the terror-filled brown eyes staring up at him glazed over and Heyes passed out again. The Kid watched him for several moments and then stood and turned to his prisoner.

Mac's eyes shone with an odd light and he whispered, "Heyes lost his folks to raiders?"

"That's none of your damn business," snarled the Kid as he picked up the ripped blanket he'd tossed aside earlier and spread it over his partner. Without looking at the bound man he left the cabin, struggling to maintain his composure.

Returning some time later, the Kid held a pot of hot water gripped in one hand and the soap and towel in the other and carried it all over to the bed and set it on the floor. Pulling the blanket off Heyes' feet, he examined the wounded appendage before picking up the towel and dipping it in the water. He worked up a thick lather with the soap and began thoroughly washing Heyes' foot while watching for any signs that his partner felt what he was doing. There weren't any so he scrubbed hard enough to scrape away the scabs and dead tissue that were clotting the entry and exit wounds and started them bleeding again. The blood would help cleanse the foot.

When he was satisfied he'd cleaned the injury as well as he possibly could, he gently put the foot down. He didn't want to wrap it again, instead choosing to let the blood freely flow hoping it would carry away any remaining filth. He washed out the towel with the leftover water and hooked it on a nail to dry. When he turned away from Heyes, he found Mac watching him again. "You gonna keep starin' at me?" he snapped peevishly.

"Ain't got nothin' else to stare at."

Ignoring Mac, the Kid crossed over to the cabinets and began pulling out the old cans of food from the lower shelf. Most of them were swollen with toxicity and he threw those to the floor, but he found several that he could use and set them on the counter. On the top shelf, he found an old hammer, a roll of baling wire, and a can of pine tar for waterproofing. He pulled each item down and placed it next to the cans. Reaching back up, he felt around the rear of the shelf and his hand nearly knocked over a bottle. He caught it and pulled it out. It was half-filled and labeled with crude X's. Moonshine. "Yes!" he said triumphantly.

Mac read his mind. "Ain't gonna help Heyes. That infection's too far gone to be cured by tonsil paint."

The Kid knew what Mac said was true. Deflated, he put the bottle down and his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"So what's in them cans?"

"Beans and potatoes."

"What's that other one?" Mac nodded his chin at the green and black can next to the hammer.

"Pine tar." The Kid picked up the can and couldn't help noticing Mac's interest. "Why? You wanna waterproof somethin'?"

Shaking his head, Mac gave the Kid a tight little smile. "Ain't all it's good for, Curry. It'll draw out an abscess from a horse's hoof and heal a cut in no time but it's messy."

"What?" The Kid looked at the can in his hand as what he was hearing started to sink in. "Are you sayin' I can use this on Heyes?"

"I used to use it on my stock so I guess it's good enough for him. Works drawin' out the bad stuff."

Skeptical, the Kid frowned. "How can I be sure you ain't lyin' to me?"

"Killin' Heyes ain't gonna help me much now," said Mac. "It works. 'Sides, it don't seem to me like you have much of a choice. From the looks of that foot, your partner's got one leg in the grave and he's 'bout to dive in."

The Kid looked over at Heyes and back at Mac. "What do I do with it?"

"Smear it on thick and wait. Pus'll start oozin' out and take the tar with it. Clean 'im up and put more on as soon as that happens. Keep doin' it 'til it stops. Then you wait some more and see which way the wind'll blow."

XXX

The Kid picked up the bottle of moonshine off the counter and sat down across from Mac, his back to Heyes' bed. He'd treated the foot, cleaned out the bedding as best he could and seen to the horses, now all he could do was wait. Heyes was growing weaker by the minute as his own fear grew stronger.

The sun was setting and he was beginning to feel the effects of the past couple of days. He was bone-tired. He pulled the dried cork out of the bottle with his teeth and took a long pull of the caustic alcohol while considering the man across from him. He couldn't figure Mac out. He'd wounded a man for convenience's sake and had been unapologetic about it. The man wasn't afraid to die, that's for sure, he'd owned right up to what he'd done despite the Kid's reputation. He had to give him that. That and the fact that he'd helped Heyes even if he was the one to hurt him in the first place. "Drink?" he asked, holding out the bottle.

"Naw, teetotaler," said Mac. He added as though it needed clarifying, "Methodist."

Curry couldn't help smiling. "Somehow I didn't take you for a God-fearin' man."

"Can't say as I am. Me, I'm more of a man-fearin' man."

The Kid took another swill of booze, "I reckon there's more men 'fraid of you than you of them."

Mac bristled at the observation. "Outlaws maybe. I ain't never killed no law-abidin' folk."

"So how d'you know who's law-abidin' and who's not? Or do you enlist ol' Saint Peter's help passin' judgment?"

Mac's eyebrows shot up. "Don't tell me _you_ got religion."

"My maw put the fear into us; made all of us go to services every Sunday. Some lessons took, some didn't," the Kid wistfully thought of those hard wooden benches piled full of squirming Currys. All passed now, and Heyes fixin' to follow.

"Is your maw proud of you? First commandment is 'thou shall not steal.' You and your partner broke that one all to hell. A few others, too, I'd bet."

Curry glared at him. "I reckon she'd be ashamed of what we've done in the past, but if she could see us now, she'd be proud enough." He thought of the amnesty for the first time in days. They'd worked so hard. Was it gone forever?

Mac's jaw tightened with outrage and he sputtered, "You're a damned gunslinger, you kill all the time!"

Frigid blue eyes regarded him. "Only ever killed two men and both of 'em deserved it. You shouldn't believe what you read in the dime novels."

Mac snorted with derision. "C'mon, Curry, you 'spect me to believe you only killed two men? You're the fastest gun in the West. You must have every wanna-be shootist callin' you out on a daily basis."

The Kid thought of Danny Bilson. He could still see Danny falling to the street, his face forever shocked by his own demise. He took another swig wishing alcohol could wash that memory away, but it never did. "I'm good enough I don't have to kill, but I'm also smart enough to know when I have to and I've only had to twice."

"Man with your reputation, I'd have figured you'd enjoy the killin' for the fun of it." Mac shifted his position. His arms were falling asleep.

"You might find it fun, but I don't see anything good in it. I killed my first man when I was too young to know better but I'll never forget how I felt after. I made a resolution right then to make damn sure I never had to kill again."

"But you did."

"Some men are hell-bent on hurtin' others. Like a mad dog, they need puttin' down."

"So you kill out of a sense of community?" roared Mac with an angry laugh. "That's the most self-servin' bull I've ever heard!"

Curry got to his feet and looked at Heyes for a long moment then shifted his eyes back to Mac, asking softly, "What about you, how many men have you killed? Are you hell-bent on hurtin' others?"

"I do what I do for a reason."

"You could say that of both of us," nodded the Kid. "It's dusk. Game'll be on the move. I'll go see if I can find us some fresh meat. As long as you don't object to my killin'?"

Mac watched the door swing shut behind the famed outlaw and he stared at it for a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

The clattering of a fork on a tin plate caused Heyes to shift restlessly on the bed and mumble incoherently. The Kid put his plate down and glared at the offending diner. The little miner's lantern he carried in his saddlebags sat on the counter and provided him scant light.

Mac was oblivious to his scrutiny, all his attention was on wolfing down the roasted porcupine as fast as his throat allowed. He'd been ravenous for what seemed like days; now his stomach stretched to the breaking point. He didn't even look up as Curry rose and went to his partner.

The Kid felt Heyes' forehead for the umpteenth time that evening. It was still hot, but was it as hot as it had been? He lifted a corner of the blanket and peered at the wounded foot. The bleeding had stopped a long time ago and the swelling had gone down as the pus was drawn out. It appeared the pine tar was working but he'd know more by morning. Judging from Heyes' ravings it was going to be a long night.

Curry dropped the blanket and adjusted the shaggy, dark head so it was centered on a folded saddle pad he was using for a pillow. It pained him that he couldn't provide better for Heyes. He deserved more than this squalor. Everything about this cabin reeked. The odor of rodents warred with the rancid stink of bear and raccoon. Somewhere along the line this place had become as wild as the land that surrounded it.

The Kid turned to the small cooking pot filled with cooling water and dipped a mug in it. He slightly lifted Heyes' head and held the mug to his lips; managing to get a few sips in his partner. He soaked his bandana in the water then wrung out the sodden scarf and gently wiped the sweat from Heyes' face, talking softly all the while.

"You're doin' great, Heyes. You keep on fightin'. You can beat this. I know you can."

Empty brown eyes flew open and searched his face without recognition. "No!" cried Heyes. With a moan his eyes slid shut and his head thrashed from side to side before his energy was spent once again and he started to drift away.

"Shh, partner. I'm here. Stay with me."

"Geez, Curry, you sound like his mama. Folks say you two're close but not that close," Mac chuckled. He'd finished his meal and was watching the blond outlaw's gentle ministrations.

Deliberately, the Kid put the cloth back in the pot and straightened Heyes' coverings. He waited until he'd reined in his temper before turning around to face his irritating prisoner. Having loosened one of Mac's hands so he could eat with his plate awkwardly balanced on his lap, Curry now removed the plate and roughly secured Mac's arm with the other one that was still tied to the post.

He took the dishes outside and vigorously scrubbed them clean spending some of his pent up ire. He scattered the picked-clean bones, kicked dirt over the coals, and watched the smoke peter out as it reached for the stars. The stars. The night sky had cleared, the smoke had dissipated without him even realizing it, and a soft breeze caressed his face. There was a sharp freshness in the air and it was noticeably cooler. Looking up he stared at the Milky Way vividly splashed across a darkening background. He could hear the peaceful jangle of the horses' hobbles as the animals grazed the meadow. Normally, he loved when the night moved in to sweep away the day. But not now, not here.

Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest and felt the thick envelope he'd tucked inside his shirt a couple of days ago. What would happen with the amnesty? There was still enough time to get it to the governor, but just barely. It'd take some hard riding and good luck to make it. The Kid shook his head, it didn't matter, he couldn't leave Heyes. With a deep sigh, he faced the soft glow of the cabin's open door and wondered what morning would bring. If Heyes died…no, he couldn't think about that. He had to focus on the here and now. Do what needed to be done.

Mac watched Curry come through the door towards him. Was this it? Had he'd eaten his last meal? If so, it was a lousy one. He'd been surprised and confused when Curry had fixed him a plate and untied his hand so he could eat. Why bother feeding a condemned man? He certainly hadn't wasted food on Heyes. Maybe Curry really was soft. He grinned ruefully. That kind of thinking would get him killed sooner rather than later.

"What're you smilin' at?" snapped the Kid. What was it with this guy? He seemed amused by nearly everything, like he was literally trying to laugh himself into an early grave.

"Nothin', just smilin'" Mac squirmed. "I gotta go. You gonna take me outside or should I add to the stink?"

The Kid untied him and shoved him through the door, following a few steps behind with his gun drawn. "I'm coverin' you so don't try anything."

"Believe me, there's only one thing on my mind right now," said Mac, fumbling with his britches as he stepped off the porch.

"Well, get it done. I'm not bringin' you out again before daylight."

Turning his back to Curry, Mac asked, "You mind givin' me some privacy?"

"Have I given you some reason to think I'm stupid?" asked the Kid sarcastically as he kept his gun trained squarely on Mac's torso.

"A man can hope," laughed Mac as he performed under watchful eyes. "You know what the good book says 'hope is the anchor of the soul'."

"Just overflowin' with pearls of wisdom, ain't you?" The Kid thought for a moment and asked, "Why'd you help Heyes with the pine tar? You'd done everything you could to kill him up 'til then."

"Why'd you feed me?" countered Mac.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Mac studied the man before him and saw genuine perplexion. Curry had never thought twice. Mac felt a momentary bloom of shame over his own actions, but he quickly shook it off and considered why he'd helped Heyes.

"Guess you're right. Don't make much sense, does it?" Mac jiggled and buttoned up. "I suppose I feel different now than I did then. I didn't think he wasn't gonna last long either way so why not make it easy on myself."

"What d'you mean he wasn't gonna last long? We're looking at twenty years not a death sentence," challenged Curry.

"Well, Heyes has made more'n his fair share of enemies and I reckon some of 'em are just waitin' for 'im to get caught. Don't matter much whether they're on the right or the wrong side of the law, they're gunnin' for your partner…and you. Heyes was on his way to prison or, if I turned 'im into the wrong lawman, the noose. Either way, he was a dead man walkin'."

"So you figured you may as well shoot him in the foot and let him suffer?" Anger colored the Kid's face.

Mac shrugged, "Like I said, seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, if'n I'd known he was gonna kill Dickey, I'd have put that bullet straight through his head."

"Dickey? Who's Dickey?" The Kid's concern for his partner grew. Had Heyes killed someone? Was that why he was so restless?

"Dickey was Andy's horse," said Mac, "and your partner killed him." He started to walk towards Curry but the unwavering Colt brought him up short. "You lettin' me back in or are we doin' this out here?"

Gesturing with his gun, the Kid growled, "Get inside."

Once Mac was tied up again, Curry checked Heyes one last time and blew out the lantern. He settled down next to the bed resting his head on the seat of his saddle. He could hear both men breathing. Heyes' breaths coming softly and erratically; Mac's quiet but steady.

"Who was Andy?" asked the Kid into the absolute blackness. Several minutes passed and he gave up on getting an answer.

He was just getting drowsy when Mac softly said, "He's my boy. We trained that horse together, the two of us. Dickey was his pride and joy."

The raw pain in Mac's voice touched a nerve. This man had shown no emotion over his own possible death, or Heyes', but he was broken up by the loss of a horse. The Kid replied, "I'm sorry," without really thinking too hard on whether or not he was. Strangely feeling the need to defend his partner, he added, "Heyes loves animals, he'd never have harmed your horse if he didn't think you were gonna kill him."

A strangled growl arose. "I know it's my own damn fault he's gone! I don't need you tellin' me so!"

Kid sat in uncomfortable silence. He didn't know what to say. After a while, he offered, "Maybe you can tell Andy Dickey died in an accident. You know, sorta take the edge off it."

"I can't tell him nothin'-he's dead. They're all dead. That horse was the last thing I had of 'em. It's my fault. Everythin's my fault. Carrie asked me not to go to huntin'. She'd asked me to stay home and help her put up preserves but I'd gotten it into my darn fool head I needed some time alone." Mac wailed, "Well, I'm as alone as they come now!"

Horrified by what he'd unleashed, the Kid sat in stunned silence. He didn't want to feel anything for Mac—not rage nor the sympathy that was pushing its way into his heart.

Mac couldn't stop now no matter how much he wanted to. He'd never spoken of that day to anyone but he knew he was going to spill his guts to Curry and he hated him for it. "I left early that afternoon. I should've finished reapin' the wheat but I had a powerful need to go, so I left with barely a kiss good-bye. Gave little Elsie a squeeze and, God forgive me; I gave no mind to Andy when he begged to come with. I wanted to be alone.

I knew Carrie didn't understand, but she never complained 'bout it when the feeling came over me. We had meat stored, she knew we did, there weren't no reason for me to ride off but she let me go without a word like she always did. She comes, came, from a big family. Me, I was an only child. Sometimes I'd feel like life was drownin' me-the need to provide, the kids, the noise of it all, and I'd take myself off for a few days to go fishin' or huntin'."

The Kid felt the misery radiating from the other side of the room. He was pretty sure what was coming next, but he was no more able to stop the flow of Mac's words than Mac was.

"I came back two days later. The place was burnt to the ground. The stock gone. I found Andy out by the corral gate shot through the heart. He must've turned Dickey loose rather than let 'em take 'im. That horse was grazing along the edge of the hay field, not a hair on his head harmed." The choking voice continued, horror dripping from every word, "I found little Elsie in a ditch, trampled. Carrie….oh, Carrie…" The man broke down completely, keening at the top of his lungs. It was a long time before the cries died away.

After a respectful wait, the Kid quietly asked, "Indians?"

"It was goddamn outlaws!" yelled Mac venomously. "Like you and your partner!"

"Hold on a minute!" Curry yelled back. "Heyes and I've never done nothing like that. We went out of our way not to hurt folks!"

Mac sputtered. "You hurt folks! You're lyin' to yourself if'n you think you don't!"

Humiliated by the truth of it, the Kid was tongue-tied, "We…I…not like that! We took money, not lives! And we didn't steal from regular folks, just the banks and the railroads!"

"Whose money do y'think is in them banks and trains?"

Silence descended again, broken only by pitiful whimpers from Heyes. The Kid wondered if he'd heard them talking and was as upset as he was.

Mac's voice softened to a whisper. "That's what I thought. You don't give no thought to who you're hurtin', you just take the money and run. Well, it's my job to see crooks like you stop runnin'."

"Kid," moaned Heyes.

Anxious to end the conversation, Curry scrambled to his feet knocking over the lantern before picking it up and re-lighting it. He held it up over his partner and the light reflected off brown eyes still clouded by fever but looking up at him. "Heyes, can you hear me?"

Mac ignored the two outlaws. The pain of his confession was unbearable. He wished Curry would kill him and be done with it. What was he waiting for? It was beginning to dawn on him that Kid Curry considered himself a principled man. No doubt he was a killer but he was a dang choosy one.

"C-c-cold," stuttered Heyes, his body convulsing under the covers.

The Kid felt Heyes' forehead. It was still hot.

"How…find?" asked Heyes.

The Kid smiled gently, "I'll always find you, y'know that."

"I lost it."

Mac's ears pricked up. What had Heyes lost?

"Shh, it's all right," soothed the Kid.

Heyes gripped his partner's wrists with surprising strength. His hands felt like ice. "No, I lost the envelope. Our amnesty."

The Kid glanced back at Mac who didn't appear to have heard. "Shut up, Heyes," he hissed as quietly as he could. "We've got company."

"All those years… gone." Heyes' face grayed even further and his voice instantly weaker, his cold hands let go.

The Kid gave up worrying about who heard what. "It's all right, buddy. I found 'em. They're right here, see?" His left hand unbuttoned, then reached into his shirt, and pulled out a corner of the manila envelope. The relief on Heyes' face was palpable. Curry looked over his shoulder again. The interest on Mac's was equally clear.

"What day?" croaked Heyes.

"It's Monday, why?"

"Go. Take it. _Now_." Heyes tried to wave him off, but the Kid wasn't budging.

"Forget it, I ain't leavin' you."

"Go!" Heyes started to become agitated and struggled to sit up but didn't have the strength. He flopped back down and begged, "Please."

"Heyes, I can't. Mac's here. I found him, too, and I ain't givin' 'im another chance to kill you."

Mac had heard every word. So, Heyes and Curry were going for an amnesty? What damned fool governor would offer amnesty to the West's most famous outlaws?! One committin' political suicide, that's who.

"Please," repeated Heyes weakly as he went limp.

"Sorry, partner, it ain't happenin'," whispered the Kid.

Mac remembered the envelope of papers he'd scattered on the ground after he'd shot Heyes. He'd never made it past second grade and couldn't read much of anything past three letters. Those must've been the amnesty papers. The thought pleased him that he, Mac Lamford, might be the only thing standing between prison and freedom for these two.


	7. Chapter 7

Heyes sagged into the filthy cot. His brain was still fuzzy with fever but he'd heard everything-Mac's startling confession along with Jed's stubborn refusal to take the papers and go. The last of his strength slipped away and his mind spun with gruesome memories and imaginings, both his and Mac's families horribly intertwined as their deaths played out in his nightmares.

Angered and shaken by how much he'd revealed to Curry, Mac brooded until the first light of the new day filtered in through a hole in the cabin's chinking. Soft snores emanated from the Kid, but Heyes was shifting about causing the bed to creak. He'd spent the long night thinking about the two outlaws. He'd always heard Heyes was the brains of the outfit, but he'd also heard Kid Curry was a stone-cold killer and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it wasn't true. Curry was a man with his own code of honor just like him. He respected that. One other thing was crystal clear; the young gunman cared deeply for his leader. Mac could use that.

"Curry, psst!" he whispered. "Hey, wake up."

The Kid bolted upright, awake, his hand dropping to his sidearm and his eyes cutting to Heyes. "What the…?!"

"Don't worry, he ain't dead." Mac grinned. Curry's devotion to his partner was so painfully obvious.

Slumping with relief, the Kid rubbed his eyes wearily. His lack of sleep and concern for Heyes was wearing him down. Reacting without thinking was a dangerous place for him to be. "What'd you wake me for?" he grumpily asked.

"You and me need to talk while your partner can't hear us."

"You and I don't have anything to talk about."

The smile slipped from Mac's face. "Sure we do. You know as well as me, fevers burn a man up from the inside out and there ain't enough of Heyes left to light a match . If'n that fever don't come down real soon, he's gonna die."

The Kid looked back at Heyes. Dark hair lay matted on his forehead and his face was gaunt. The fever had whittled away the little fat he'd carried. Curry reached up and rested a hand against a bristled cheek. The skin was hot but the fever had lessened overnight. "He's okay."

Mac smirked. "For now."

The words pierced the Kid's heart. "What're you sayin'?"

"He's gettin' weaker and you need to get 'im a doctor. By my calculations, we ain't that far from Grand Lake. There'll be a doc there. Can't be more'n four, five hours at most."

Blue eyes narrowed skeptically, "I ain't leavin' Heyes with you."

"So take me with you. Heyes' is out of it. He won't know you left 'im alone."

"Like hell I will. This place stunk of bear when we arrived. You think I'm leavin' my partner to get eaten by critters?"

"Then leave me with 'im. You got me tied up good. I'll keep watch."

Not answering, the Kid considered Mac's proposal. He knew Heyes needed more care than he could provide. Getting up, he tugged the bedding off Heyes' leg then set about changing the dressing. The ominous dilation of the veins had lessened but the wound was still producing pus. The pine tar had done a good job of drawing out what it could, but there wasn't much left. What was going to happen when it ran out? He carefully cleaned Heyes' foot and bound it with more skunk cabbage leaves secured by a strip of torn cloth. Intent on what he was doing, he'd failed to notice brown eyes following his every move.

"Kid" said Heyes breathlessly.

"Hey. How're y'doin'?" Gently smiling , the Kid pulled the blankets up and shifted on the edge of the bed so that he was facing his friend. Heyes looked better. His eyes were still glazed but focused.

"Thirsty," squeaked Heyes.

Curry dipped a mug into the pail of clean water and lifted Heyes' head letting him take a few small sips. "That's enough. Don't want you gettin' a bellyache." He lowered Heyes to the pile of rags serving as a pillow. "Your fever's down a bit. You feelin' any better?"

"Feels like I've been trampled."

"Think you can eat somethin'? I got porcupine dryin'. Roasted it up last night."

Heyes' stomach lurched at the thought and his face grayed. "No,…can't. I'll pitch it up."

Dissatisfied with that answer, the Kid's fears intensified. He wasn't sure what he should do. Cautiously he ventured, "I'm thinkin' we're pretty close to Grand Lake."

Heyes nodded. "Couple hours south." Realization crept onto his face and his gaze sharpened, "You could get help."

"Heyes…"

"No, listen, leave my gun. Mac's tied up."

"What if he gets untied?"

"I'll deal. Please…go…I need a doctor."

Heyes never wanted to see doctors and the fact he was asking for one now terrified Kid Curry and dissolved the rest of his objections.

Having been listening to the two friends, Mac chimed in, "For God's sake, Curry, you tryin' to kill 'im? Man says he needs a doctor!"

The Kid rose, his fists clenched in fury, "Shut up! We wouldn't even be in this fix if'n it weren't for you!"

"I din't put you on a life of crime!" yelled Mac. "You brought this on yourselves! God's punishin' your wicked ways!"

Taking a step towards his prisoner, the Kid was caught short as Heyes grabbed his shirttail. "Stop!" Heyes coughed with the effort. "Don't matter how we got here. Leave my pistol. I'll be fine."

The Kid had swung back to his partner ready to argue but the waxy sheen on Heyes' face caused the words to die on his lips. He nodded curtly. Furious about what he knew he had to do, he turned away from both men and started gathering up his gear. "I'll take both horses. You won't need 'em and I can switch off, gallop the whole way."

"Take my money, Mac's too, if he has any."

Curry roughly searched Mac's pockets finding thirty-two dollars. He pulled out the bills, a small key, and a folded knife, waving them in front of the other man's face. "Since I'm such a crook, guess I'll take these." He turned to Mac's saddle bags and dug through them, looking for weapons but finding a pair of handcuffs. The key worked. The Kid turned around and held the cuffs up enjoying the anger that flitted across Mac's face. "Let's see you weasel your way outta these." He snapped them around Mac's wrists and untying the rope to use as a lead. "Guess I'm all right now with leavin' you here."

"Take the papers," croaked Heyes. "Hire someone to ride to Denver."

"Is that why you want me to go to Grand Lake?!" growled the Kid, searching his partner's face for the truth. It wasn't beneath Heyes to manipulate the situation. Even now.

"Look, there's still time." Heyes shifted uncomfortably, but gave him a wan smile. "It'll give me peace knowing even if I don't get it, you might."

"Damn it, Heyes!" The Kid snatched up the torn envelope and shoved it into his jacket.

"Use your compass…ride due south…don't stray off course or you'll never get back," instructed Heyes as the Kid put the Schofield, a mug and pail of water, and a portion of dried porcupine by Heyes' side. Curry left another portion within Mac's reach along with two full canteens, checked his prisoner's bindings, gave a quick nod, and was gone.

Both Heyes and Mac listened to the sound of hoof beats fading away until silence fell. Heyes rolled over and pointedly glared at Mac as he slipped his hand around the Schofield's grip. The two men watched each other. Neither said a word and, after a while, Heyes' eyes drooped. Mac waited patiently until Heyes was sound asleep then began trying to work the cuffs loose. He struggled purposely, chafing his wrists until they bled freely. He'd tensed the muscles of his arm while keeping his hands relaxed as Curry had snapped on the cuffs. It was an old trick he'd learned the hard way with one wily outlaw and he hoped now he could replicate it.

XXX

Recklessly driving the horses on, the Kid dangerously wove his way through the forest as fast as he dared concentrating on his path so the misgivings he had were driven from his mind. Periodically, he fished out the compass, checking the direction-South.

XXX

Heyes awoke to Mac sawing the chain of the cuffs against the wooden post. Disoriented by his fever, he lay still and let the rhythmic noise wash over him. The steady sound quickly lulled him back to sleep.

XXX

Bloodied, sore, and desperate, Mac continued working the cuffs around his wrists while they chewed through the old wood. One way or another, he planned to be long gone by the time Curry returned but he'd see Heyes in hell before he went.

XXX

Several hours into his ride, the Kid intersected a wagon trail. He pulled the horses up and checked the compass. Using a sock from his saddlebag, he flagged a tree where he exited the forest so he could easily find it again. Turning onto the road, he vaulted from the bay onto the sorrel and picked up a fast gallop tugging the now rider-less horse along beside him.

It wasn't long before he passed a small ranch. Split rail fencing lined the side of the road and delineated the property. A long road branched off through a gate and disappeared into distant trees. Soon, he came to more homesteads and the road became smoother, steadily dropping elevation. Within another hour, he glimpsed the deep blue waters of Grand Lake. Tall, heavily forested mountains rose sharply from the banks of the lake and he could see a settlement of buildings clustered on the eastern shore. Heartened, he drove on.

Nearing the outskirts of town, the Kid saw a young man hanging laundry on a clothesline in a front yard. As he approached he called out, "Howdy, is there a doctor in town? My partner's been hurt."

The man turned slightly and pointed to a two-story building down the street, yelling back, "Dr. Minner's office's upstairs, the Ore Building."

"Much obliged." The Kid took in the weathered, peeling paint on the house and the grayed, well-worn clothing hanging from the line. His eyes came back to the man as he reined to a stop. "I've got some papers that need deliverin' to the governor's office in Denver as fast as possible. You know someone who might want to make a quick thirty bucks?" It was an exorbitant sum, but it had the effect the Kid was hoping for.

"I could help you out with that," replied the man.

The Kid handed over the envelope and the money. After shaking on the deal, he hurried away.

XXX

A shaft of sunlight filtered through a grimy, broken window pane and fell across the bed. Slowly as the day wore on, the beam shifted across Heyes' sleeping form until it reached his face. He squinted and turned away from the harsh light.

Seeing the outlaw stirring, Mac ceased his sawing and shifted around the pole until he was facing Heyes, his raw, torn hands concealed behind him. He'd managed to squeeze a cuff midway down his left hand and the iron grip of it was cutting off the blood supply causing him great pain but there was no way he'd let on he was hurtin'. Heyes' gaze briefly fell on him as the outlaw grabbed the mug left next to him and dipped it into the pail next to the bed. His hand shook crazily as he lifted the water to his mouth slopping some onto the bed before he managed a few swallows. Mac watched him trying to steady his hand but he couldn't.

Heyes dropped the mug and looked up, seeing the other man's speculation. He scowled. "Don't get any bright ideas. I've got six bullets and six chances to shoot you."

Grinning, Mac shook his head. "I got all sorts of ideas, but ain't none of 'em gonna do me a lick of good with these cuffs on."

"Hmpf." Heyes swung his legs off the bed and, struggling, managed to sit up leaning against the wall behind the bed. He was breathing hard like he'd run a mile, but he'd managed it. Pulling the Schofield into his lap, he watched Mac watching him.

XXX

The Kid took the stairs to the Ore Building two at a time until he reached the portico. A door stood to his left ornately labeled, "Dr. Philip Minner, General Practitioner." It shook as he rapped firmly but there was no answer. He shouted, "Open up" several times until a man's bespectacled head poked out through the door to the next office.

"Stop that racket! Can't you see Dr. Minner's not in?"

The Kid walked over and stood in front of the door. "Where is he?"

The man looked him up and down before sniffing dismissively. "He's at the Wilson place," he said as though the Kid should know where that was.

His temper rising and his eyes growing cold, Curry leaned in towards the man and bit off his next words. "Where…exactly…is that?"

The man swallowed dramatically, his Adam's apple bobbing, and babbled, "Two miles outta town on the left. Look for the lightnin' struck tree and the swayback gray in the field. Whitewashed…," He inhaled to provide more detail but the intimidating stranger left before he could finish.

XXX

Heyes kept dozing off. No matter how hard he fought it, he was too exhausted to keep watch. In his dreams, he saw his father and Uncle working a two-handed crosscut saw making timbers for the barn they were building. He was lying under the old oak tree by the creek with the noonday sun warming him. Flies buzzed about his head as he struggled to stay awake. In the distance, he could see Jed coming back with their lunch, a sack held in his hand. Jed looked different. Older maybe? Before he could decide how or why, he saw the blond trip. The sack sailed up into the air releasing scattered sheets. A tornado appeared spiraling into the sky and drawing the papers and Jed upwards until they disappeared. Heyes screamed in horror and jerked awake looking wildly about. "Jed!"

Mac froze. The pain in his hands was almost unbearable but he'd made no further progress getting the cuffs off. Sawing through the wood was proving to be futile as well, the post was too thick. He had one more trick up his sleeve but he had to wait for the right moment and act fast. Not now. Not while Heyes was alert.

Relieved it was all a dream, the outlaw sagged and closed his eyes.

XXX

Galloping towards town, the Kid saw a man in a bowler hat and a dark coat coming towards him on a bicycle. Curry slowed to a walk hoping to avoid spooking the horses as they passed the unfamiliar conveyance.

Smiling, the man stopped and greeted him. "Thank you, sir, for slowing. Horses don't seem to care for my mode of transportation."

Curry noticed the black leather doctor's bag tied to the back of the seat. "Are you Dr. Minner?"

"I am."

The Kid swung out of his saddle. "I need your help. My partner's sick. He got shot in the foot a coupla days ago and infection's set in. He's been spikin' a fever."

"Well, that was careless of him," said the doctor, assuming an accident. The two horses before him were sweated up and winded from a long ride. "How far away is he?"

"A few hours north of here."

The doctor stiffened and he started to protest, "I'm sorry, I can't…"

"I'm sorry. I ain't got time for this," the Kid's Colt appeared in his hand like magic. "Leave the bike. You're comin' with me."

Dr. Minner's hands shot up. "Please, don't hurt me. I have a family."

"So do I Doc, and right now he needs your help." The Kid grabbed the doctor's bag and gestured for the physician to mount Heyes' horse.

"I don't know how to ride a horse!" protested Dr. Minner.

"You're about to learn."

XXX

It seemed liked he'd been waiting forever. Heyes hadn't made a peep in a long time and he was pretty sure the outlaw was sound asleep again, but Mac kept stalling. He knew what he had to do. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. The shadows in the cabin were getting longer. He had to do it now so he could be well away before Curry returned. He took several deep breaths. It was now or never.

He bit his shirt collar to keep from crying out and, with a desperate sharp upwards yank of his left arm he dislocated his thumb, sliding his damaged hand easily through the cuff. The pain was terrible and he began to hyperventilate through his clenched teeth as tears streamed down his face but he didn't hesitate. Mac leapt to his feet, his nerves hurtling him across the cabin where he snatched up a table leg. Turning, he swung it over his head and charged at the sleeping man on the bed.

Heyes' eyes opened. His hand rose as if by its own volition, gripping the Schofield, and it fired, the bullet hitting Mac's hand. The table leg clattered to the floor as the older man's momentum carried him forward, his bloodied hands outstretched and his mouth screaming his rage despite the smoking gun aimed at his heart. The gun's muzzle shifted slightly, barked again, and a second slug found its mark.

Mac wobbled, nearly fell, but recovered clumsily and came to a halt. His hands dropped and he stared stupidly at the newly-formed hole in his right foot.


	8. Chapter 8

Shocked, the pain roaring in, Mac dropped to the floor and clutched his injured appendage, and glared at Heyes. "You shot me!"

Heyes was as surprised as Mac. He looked down at the gun in his hand as though he'd never seen it before then his gaze returned to the older man. A slow, cruel smile appeared and he shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Hearing his own words mirrored, Mac let out a stream of invective as the blood seeped through his fingers and he began to rock in agony. Small grunts and high pitched moans breached his clenched teeth.

"Hurts, don't it?" asked Heyes, watching Mac until he stopped writhing and lay on his back panting with the pain.

"Why…why didn't you…?"

"What? Shoot you dead? I could've shot you through the heart but you know what the Good Book says—an eye for an eye-or in this case, a foot for a foot." Heyes tried to get to his feet, but he was too weak to stand. Instead, he slid off the bed to the floor the gun still gripped tightly in his hand and crawled over to Mac. Exhausted, he sat back and looked down at the man prostrated before him until he caught his breath. "Despite what you think, I'm not a killer and neither is the Kid."

Mac snorted derisively, "He's killed. He said as much."

"Only in a fair fight and only when he had to."

"Ain't a fair fight when Kid Curry's part of it."

Heyes shook his head. "You're pretty judgmental for a fella who shot an unarmed man for no damn reason." Without hesitation, Heyes swung his gun hand wide and delivered a stunning blow to the side of Mac's head knocking him unconscious.

XXX

The Kid glanced back at Minner. The doctor was gripping his saddle horn with both hands as he hunched over the horse's neck thereby increasing each jarring bounce delivered to his backside. They were almost to the turnoff where they'd have to leave the road and wind their way through the forest. "Whoa," said Curry, reining up to a walk. Behind him, Heyes' bay slid to a stop nearly sending his rider over his head.

Minner scrambled upright, sweat streaming down his face, his neat clothes now dusty and rumpled. "Are we there?" he gasped. "I…I…don't think I can go much further." He flinched as disgusted blue eyes stared back at him.

"How the hell have you not ridden a horse before?" snapped the Kid in frustration. His heart was sinking with the realization that the trip back to the cabin would take far longer with this absolute tenderfoot.

Minner looked away; he couldn't look the fearsome man in the eyes. "I grew up in Chicago. I never needed to learn."

"Let go of that horn and sit your tail in that saddle! You lean over the horse's neck like that and he's gonna go faster." Reaching the flag he'd used to mark the forest trail, Curry turned onto it. "We'll walk from here; trot when we can."

"Through the trees?" gulped Minner.

The Kid counted to ten before he answered. "Lean back and you'll do fine. You fall off, you get back up, and we keep goin'. My partner needs a doc and you're the best I got."

The doctor fell silent for a while as the horses ambled on then he timidly asked, "Are you gonna kill me? I mean after I…I see to your friend?"

"I ain't gonna kill you at all!" Exasperated, Curry sought for the patience to reassure Minner. "I just didn't have the time to argue with you." He took a deep breath and gently added, "Look, you take care of Joshua and I swear I'll see you home safe."

"You will?"

"You have my word. Now can we stop jawin' and start ridin'?"

Mollified by the answer, Minner gave his horse a tentative pat and leaned ridiculously far back in his saddle.

XXX

Heyes dipped his tin mug into the pail of water his partner had left and splashed the contents onto Mac's face. Mac jerked and his eyes flew open as his mouth sputtered. It took him a moment to realize where he was but when he did he twisted around towards his captor only to be caught up by the handcuffs encircling his ankles and securing him to the post.

"How?"

Holding up the lockpick from his browband, Heyes grinned, "Seems you missed one. Came in handy, too; no pun intended."

Mac groaned. "My foot's swellin' up. You're gonna cut off the blood."

"Technically, the cuffs are gonna do that." Heyes shifted back on the bed. "I'm afraid I've got to admit, I'm less worried about your foot falling off than I am about you bashing my head in while I sleep." Picking up a bundle of rags, he threw them at Mac then used his foot to push the bucket within the other man's reach. "Clean your wound and quit bellyachin', the doctor's going to be here soon."

"You don't know there's a doc within a hundred miles of here."

"You're right, I don't, but I do know my partner."

XXX

"Oh, for Pete's sake," sighed the Kid when he heard a tree branch snap followed by a crash as Minner was swept out of the saddle for the second time since leaving the road. Swinging out of his saddle, he walked back to the downed man and extended his hand.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see it. The sun was in my eyes. I lost my balance."

Kid looked down at him. "Which one was it? Let me guess—none of the above. You just can't ride to save your life."

Minner took the offered hand to be pulled to his feet. Every muscle in his body screamed out from the unaccustomed abuse it had taken. "Please I need a break before I get back on him."

"Nope, ain't gonna happen." Seizing the doctor by his elbow, Curry hauled him and Heyes' horse towards his own animal. "You and me are ridin' double."

"Double?"

"Yep, I figure it'll take us less time than me pickin' your sorry ass up off the ground a half dozen times before we get there."

"Now, see here. I'm doing the best I can! There's no need to be rude." The offended man shook off the Kid's hand and indignantly straightened his sleeves.

"You're right and I'm sorry, but we're wastin' time." Curry unceremoniously hoisted the doctor up into the saddle and climbed up behind him. "Go ahead and slap leather, I'll do the ridin'." He dug his heels into the sorrel and yelled, "Yee-haw." The doctor rocked back into his chest and yelled something a tad more colorful.

XXX

Heyes awoke as the sunlight was beginning to fade. He pulled out his old pocket watch and noted the time. The Kid should've been back by now, shouldn't he? He'd left sometime this morning but Heyes couldn't remember exactly when.

"Maybe Curry saw the errors of his ways and kept goin'," said Mac. He was lying with his back propped up by the broken table and had been watching Heyes sleep. He'd been hopin' the thievin' polecat was dead.

"He'll be back."

"You seem damn sure 'bout that."

"I am sure."

"You two are pretty tight. How'd you partner up?" Mac was genuinely curious. He wanted to know how someone like Heyes had gotten his hooks in a man like Curry. Way he figured, Heyes must've been the one who turned Curry killer.

"We've known each other most of our lives," answered Heyes before he knew what he was saying. The fever must've lowered his inhibitions. He rolled onto his side and sat up leaning against the wall. His guard now up.

"Really? And here I was, thinkin' it was you who showed Curry the ropes. Your partner seems like a decent enough fella."

"He's a good man." Heyes softly huffed. "He's definitely a better man than me."

Mac guffawed. "You ain't gonna get no argument from me! So how'd you two end up on the wrong side of the law?"

"An apple."

"What?"

"We were hungry so I stole an apple." Heyes' eyes were glazed, remembering. "It was Wichita. We'd been looking for work but it was after the war and no one wanted to hire little kids when there were grown men tryin' to feed their families."

"You lost your kin to raiders, right?" Mac saw the anger bloom on Heyes' face and hastily added, "You said so when you were outta your head."

"And you lost yours to outlaws."

Mac reddened. He wasn't going to discuss his family with this man. Bad enough he'd blabbed to Curry. "So how'd an apple set you on the road to bank robbin'?"

"Grocer caught me red-handed. Called the sheriff and had him throw me in jail."

"Ain't that a bit harsh for an apple?"

Heyes smiled, "I thought so, but the sheriff didn't. He arrested me for theft. Said the judge was gonna fine me a hundred dollars. I busted out that night while he was sleeping." Strangely enough, it felt kind of good to be telling this story after all these years. What did it matter what he said? Mac knew who they were.

Mac laughed out loud. "Y'fool, didn't it ever occur to you he was tryin' to throw a scare into you?"

"It did later, but at the time all I could think about was Jed out there all alone with no one to look out for him."

"Just how old were you?"

"I was thirteen. Jed's two years younger."

"Hmpf, young and stupid." Mac rubbed his foot. The wound had stopped bleeding under the rag he'd tied around it. "How the heck did a kid like you bust outta a jail?"

A wide infectious smile creased the dimples in Heyes' cheeks. "I said I was hungry, didn't I? We'd been hungry a lot and I reckon the sheriff never thought about how skinny I was and how wide those bars on his cell were. I slipped right through and snuck out under his dozing nose. The Kid and I hopped the next train outta town."

"So how'd you go from fruit theft to banks?"

The smile fell away and Heyes shrugged. "The sheriff didn't have a sense of humor when folks starting laughing at him behind his back about letting a brat like me give him the slip. He put a $50 reward out on me. Wasn't much reason to go straight after that; besides, it was easier to steal than find a job."

"So you decided the heck with the law?"

"I think it was more like the law said the heck with me."

"Well, shame on you for takin' your friend down with you."

Heyes' eyes narrowed. "What about you, Mac? You think losin' your family justifies you hunting down and killing men? Torturing them? You think the bible says, 'Thou shall not kill, less'n it's an outlaw? You think you're better than us, don't you, but you're not. You're a killer. And worse, you go outta your way to kill."

Mac lunged towards Heyes forgetting he was bound and his hands reached hungrily for the younger man as he strained against his restraints. "You sonava… *&%$#! I'll see you in Hell, Heyes!"

"I'm sure you will, Mac, I'm sure you will."


	9. Chapter 9

"Ple…ee…ase, c…can't we slow down a little?" Dr. Minner had a death grip around Kid Curry's waist. His eyes were clenched shut. He couldn't bear watching as the horse dodged one tree after another, shifting his direction before his hooves hit the ground at a speed that was shocking. He knew if he fell off he'd be trampled by the second horse they were leading behind them. His hold tightened even more. He had no desire to go to his eternal resting place as a pulverized corpse. His stomach roiled with fear and he swore repeatedly that he'd never sit a horse again as long as he lived; if he lived through this ride.

"Sorry, Doc, ain't gonna happen. Think you could ease up on the squeezin'? It's gettin' kinda hard to breathe." A moment later, the Kid felt the arms bending his ribs through his chest loosen a tiny bit. "Thanks." He was following his own tracks from this morning and it was taking all his concentration to make sure they didn't get lost. Fortunately, the dry, trampled grasses hadn't recovered from his passing this morning and there was a faint trail stretching ahead of them. "Won't be much longer."

XXX

Mac had reached for Heyes forgetting his legs were handcuffed around the post. An abrupt jerk reminded him all too quickly how futile his actions were and he fell back gasping as a hot dagger of pain shot through his injured foot. The hateful outlaw was watching him but he wasn't about to give the grinning jackass the satisfaction of witnessing his weakness. He got his breath under control and sat back against the table. "You have no right to judge me, Heyes. I ain't breakin' the law."

A dimpled smirk cut into Heyes' cheek. "That depends whose law we're talking about, don't it? You say you're a god-fearing man, what do you think God will say come Judgment Day about how you go about doing your job?"

"You worried about my immortal soul?"

"I've just always wondered how people like you can thump their bibles and claim to be God's chosen right before they do the most horrific things. Gives truly good church-going folks a bad name."

"The righteous will rejoice when he sees the vengeance; he will bathe his feet in the blood of the wicked," said Mac with a triumphant smile. "Psalm 58:10."

"Sees the vengeance doesn't mean the same as taking vengeance." Heyes shook his head. "Romans 12:17-21. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.' To the contrary, 'if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.' Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

Mac's mouth fell open at Heyes' lengthy, detailed recitation.

Dancing brown eyes mocked him as Heyes added, "I kinda get the feeling that God wants you to leave the revenging to him, don't you?"

XXX

Kid Curry slowed his horse as the trees began to thin and he spotted the old cabin nestled in the meadow. He felt Minner behind him leaning to one side for a better view.

"Are we there?" asked the doctor hopefully.

"Yeah." Everything looked ominously quiet. The Kid drew his gun. He couldn't hear any sounds except the rustling of the browned meadow grasses rippling in a slight breeze. That worried him. It was past dusk and the light was fading away. He squinted towards the cabin looking for movement of any kind. There was none.

"Why did you draw your weapon?"

"'Cause I'm a naturally cautious man, Doc." Curry sent his horse into a walk but kept his Colt trained on the cabin.

"Surely your friend won't shoot us."

"He won't, but the fella with him wouldn't hesitate."

"He's not alone?"

"Nope. The man who shot him is in there, too."

"You left him alone with him?!" Minner couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Had to; Joshua needed a doctor. Mac's tied up. At least he was when I left. I'm just makin' sure things haven't changed."

The doctor shrank back behind the Kid, closed his eyes, and held his breath as they neared the shack. The horse halted again and he felt Curry begin to dismount. "Wait!" The Kid froze. "Just in case…what's your name?"

"Jones. Thaddeus Jones. My friend is the dark-haired fellow. Joshua Smith. Cyrus Lamford's the other guy. Goes by Mac. Watch out for him. He's mean as a rattler." The Kid slipped out of the saddle and handed the reins to Minner. "Stay here 'til you see me wave. If all hell breaks loose, get outta here. Contact Sheriff Lom Trevors in Porterville and let him know what happened."

The doctor's eyes widened. "You work for a sheriff?"

"No. He's a good friend."

Greatly relieved to realize this fearful man was not some random outlaw, Minner smiled down at the blond. "Be careful."

The Kid nodded, "Always am," and started towards the cabin using the scant trees for cover, zigzagging between them, his eyes on the front of the building.

XXX

Mac was still staring at Heyes with undisguised hatred when Kid Curry appeared in the doorway.

"Nice to see you two makin' friends."

Heyes beamed at his partner. "Haha, I wouldn't go that far. Did you bring a doc?"

"Yep. Hold on a sec and I'll let him know it's safe to come in." The Kid leaned out of the door and waved vigorously to Minner. He chuckled as the doctor tried to persuade his horse to obey him then turned back to Heyes. "He'll be here in a minute. You look better."

"I think I am. Mac, however, seems to have sprung a leak."

Curry's eyes shifted to the other man. He noted the handcuffs around the ankles and the bloody rag wrapped around Mac's foot. "Nice shot."

Heyes grinned. "I've been practicing."

An alarmed cry followed by a muffled thud announced that the doctor had arrived. Minner came through the door straightening his jacket with one hand and clutching his bag with the other. His legs were rubbery from the ride and gave him the general appearance of a drunken sailor on shore leave. His eyes met Heyes'. "Yes, there, well, um, Mr. Smith, I'm Dr. Minner."

"Joshua," nodded Heyes, "and that's Mac Lamford. He's in need of your services, too."

Minner acknowledged Mac and then turned back to Heyes as the Kid leaned over and whispered very softly to Mac. "One word about us and you're a dead man."

Minner set his bag down on the bed and gently began to unwrap the rags from Heyes' foot. He whistled softly as he saw the ugly purple wound. When he poked it slightly it oozed pus and some other substance. "What on earth did you put on this wound?" He asked as he turned to look at the Kid.

"Pine tar. It was all we had," said Curry, sheepishly.

"Yes, well, there's a nasty infection brewing in there and these rags didn't help. I'll scrub it with some iodine and cut away the bad tissue but I'm afraid I'll need to apply Bromine. Let me have a look at Mr. Lamford first."

"He'll keep," said the Kid, firmly.

"Nonsense," replied Minner. He walked over the bound man and knelt down. "Mr. Lamford, may I have a look at your wound?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely…" Mac gestured for him to proceed and watched as the doctor examined his foot.

"Fortunately, your wound appears clean, sir. I'll re-clean it with some iodine and we'll have to keep an eye on it for a few days but I think you'll be fine." Minner stood up and look at the Kid. "I'll need clean water." He nodded towards the bucket. "Can you start a fire? Boil that for at least ten minutes."

"It's already been boiled."

"You'll need to do it again, I'm afraid." Minner watched the Kid pick up the bucket and go through the door before he turned back to Heyes. "Mr. Smith, I'm afraid this will be quite painful. May I give you some laudanum to ease your suffering?"

"Let's hold off until Thaddeus returns," answered Heyes. "As friendly as he looks, Mac's a dangerous man; shot me for no good reason."

Mac seethed. "He's lying. He's Hannibal Heyes and his partner is Kid Curry. I was taking him in to collect the reward. I shot him so he wouldn't try getting away."

Minner looked at the sheer ugliness on Mac's face. He could easily believe the man would shoot someone for his own convenience. Jones had already warned him about this man, too. "I don't care who he is, he's my patient. Now, Mr. _Smith_ , lay back and try to relax."

"I'll relax when Thaddeus is back. Meanwhile, I'd like to keep my wits about me." Heyes' hand rested on his gun tucked by his side.

Seeing the weapon, Minner nodded. "Yes, well, perhaps prudence is best. In the meantime, I will light the lantern and get my instruments out."

When the Kid returned with the steaming water, Dr. Minner prepared a heavy dose of laudanum for Heyes. Heyes drank the bitter liquid. All watched as the drug took effect and his eyes closed and his breathing slowed.

"Mr. Jones, I'll need your assistance. This procedure will be quite painful and Mr. Smith must be adequately restrained. If you could please position yourself by his hips, I'll have you hold down his legs as I work on his foot."

With practiced ease, Dr. Minner cleaned and debrided the entry and exit wounds. Heyes twisted fitfully from time to time but the Kid's grip held his foot firmly in place. Once the task was completed, Minner lifted a portion of bromine-soaked lint from a small porcelain bowl with a pair of forceps and paused. "You'll need to hold tight, Mr. Jones. This will burn." He waited until the Kid was ready then quickly plunged the lint into the open entry wound. The effect was immediate. Heyes screamed and sat up struggling with all his strength. His hands beat at the Kid's back and he yelled obscenities before finally weakening, falling back, and sobbingly begging them to stop. Curry's arms shook with the strain of holding his partner down but he didn't let go. His eyes were glued to Heyes' face and the relief he felt when Heyes passed out was palpable.

Dr. Minner quickly applied another wad of soaked lint to the exit wound for good measure and secured the lint in place with clean bandaging. When he finished, he gave the Kid a kind smile and noted the grayish pallor of his assistant. "Very well done, Mr. Jones, I know that was difficult for you. Now, let's see to Mr. Lamford."

"You ain't touchin' me," said Mac menacingly.

"No need to worry, Mr. Lamford. Your wound will not require such extreme treatment. I assure you it will be only be a little painful. However, we must remove those handcuffs, they are cutting off the circulation."

"That ain't safe, Doc," began the Kid.

"Well, it's not safe for Mr. Lamford to leave them on and I'm afraid it's not up for discussion. The cuffs must come off."

"It's a real bad idea, Doc."

"I would've thought you would agree that crippling a man for your own convenience was objectionable," countered Minner thereby ending the argument.

Mac was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face as the Kid begrudgingly removed the cuffs but his mind was working overtime on the possibilities that had just opened up for him.

"Mr. Jones, may I request your services again?" Minner handed Mac a small dose cup of laudanum. "Drink up, sir."

"I ain't drinkin' that. Curry, keep your paws off me, I'll handle it." Mac crossed his arms defiantly.

"Sir…"

"Do what you have to do," snapped Mac.

"You heard him, Doc." The Kid was looking forward to delivering some pain of his own to Mac.

True to his word, Minner tried his best to avoid unnecessary discomfort and was soon wrapping Mac's foot in clean bandages. "There. You were quite brave, Mr. Lamford." He put the foot down gently and turned away to wash up.

A surly grunt was all Mac could offer as a reply. Beads of sweat were dotting his forehead but he had kept his teeth clenched throughout the treatment with only a small whine or two escaping through his lips.

The Kid had been disappointed.

"Well, I'm famished." Minner rummaged around in his doctor's bag and came up holding a sack. "The wife prepared me a rather generous meal. Would you and Mr. Lamford care to share? "

"You go ahead, Doc. I've lost my appetite," replied Curry. He went over and sat down on the edge of Heyes' bed, tucking the covers securely around his partner and patting his shoulder protectively.

Minner watched him thoughtfully. The fearsome man who had kidnapped was long gone and in his place was a kind and caring person. Jones' affection for his partner was heartwarming.

Mac smiled meanly. "I'll have some. Listenin' to Heyes scream has made me hungry."

Minner frowned. It was plain to him that Mr. Jones was not the frightening man he'd thought he was. No, the only frightening man around here was Mr. Lamford.


	10. Chapter 10

A Day Early, A Dollar Short – Chapter 10

"How long do you reckon Joshua's gonna be out, Doc?" The Kid sat at the foot of Heyes' bed and watched the ragged breaths his partner drew.

Minner handed a chicken leg to Mac and turned towards Curry. "Well, it's hard to say. Mr. Smith seems like a healthy man but his injury has drained his strength. Sleep is what he needs now and, with any luck, he won't awaken until morning."

"Hmpf," grunted Mac after a large bite. "Ain't much point in patchin' 'im up if'n you ask me. Man's gonna swing sooner rather than later."

"Shut…up." The Kid spoke so softly Minner could barely hear him but he felt the menace conveyed in the two simple words.

"What're you gonna do, Curry? Kill me? Ain't that what you said?" Grinning grotesquely, Mac nodded at the doctor. "See, Curry here don't want you to know that there's Hannibal Heyes you're treatin'. Guess he figures you might not want to work on a damned outlaw."

"I'm a doctor. It doesn't matter who my patient is, I've taken a vow to treat him. You sir, are ample proof of my fealty to the oath," countered Dr. Minner disdainfully.

Mac reached into the bag next to Minner and pulled out another chicken leg waving it about punctuating his words. "Mark my words, it'll be your fault if good people are made to suffer 'cause you saved the wrong man."

"What happened to your hand?" Minner seized Mac's wrist and stared at his battered appendage.

"Ain't nothin'. I dislocated myself gettin' out of them cuffs the first time."

"It needs to go back in place immediately! Do you realize you're risking the loss of use?"

"Don't go gettin' your tail in a twist, it don't hurt much and I think it looks just fine." Pulling away from the doctor, Mac tried to wiggle his fingers but failed miserably.

Minner frowned. "Well, sir, you and I have a difference of opinion. Mr. Jones, or whatever your name is, hold down Mr. Lamford while I put his thumb back in place." His eyes shifted to the Kid who had neared Mac without the older man sensing him. He nodded and the blond outlaw seized Mac by his shoulders and forced him to the ground.

"With pleasure." The Kid smiled grimly.

While Mac cussed and squirmed, the doctor deftly snapped the joint in as his patient howled with outrage. Releasing Mac, Minner stood up and dusted the knees of his trouser as the man before him glared up at him. "Try not to use your hand for a few days and you'll be fine." He glanced at the Kid. "I'll be outside if you need me. I want some time alone to think."

"Sure, Doc. And thanks," replied the Kid, before looking down and letting his fury galloped across his face..

Mac enjoyed the play of emotions. "Ya can't shoot me now, Curry. The doc ain't sure who you are but he will be if'n you perforate me."

The Kid's eyes narrowed dangerously and he leaned down close. Close enough Mac drew back. "Well, I ain't gonna have to worry about that if I kill you both, am I?" Alarm flooded the eyes staring up at him. "After all, I'm a stone-cold killer, right?"

Both men turned as the doctor came in. "The sky has clouded over. It appears we are to finally have our rain." A peal of thunder rolled across the peaks and reverberated around the valley. "Mr. Jones, we will stay here tonight but leave first thing in the morning."

The Kid shook his head. "Uh, Doc, I don't think Joshua is gonna sit a horse."

Minner smile back at him. "None of us are. You, Mr. Jones, are going to use the last of our light to cut down seven straight saplings. We shall spend our evening constructing two travois, one for Mr. Smith and one for Mr. Lamford. You and I will lead them and we will walk back to Grand Lake!" he finished triumphantly.

"Walk?" Curry frowned. "You're kiddin', right?"

"I am completely serious."

Cold blue eyes assessed the doctor. "I ain't walkin' twenty miles back to Grand Lake in these boots."

"And, as you say, I _ain't ridin'_ back to Grand Lake." Minner's chin lifted in challenge.

"I…say…you are."

"I most certainly am not and, if you wish your partner to be as comfortable as possible, neither are you!"

The blue eyes faltered and the coldness faded as they clouded with confusion and defeat.

XXX

As the cabin grew darker, the Kid and Minner hunched over their projects trying to fasten strong knots on the cross-braces of each travois. Heyes was still out. Mac lounged back and dozed off once in a while, but jerked himself awake. Sooner or later Curry had to sleep and, when he did, Mac would be ready.

XXX

"Psst, Heyes. Psst! Wake up."

Heyes sat up and reached for his gun only to have his gun arm gripped by the Kid's firm hand. He peered up into his partner's brown eyes. "What's wrong?"

Leaning down, Curry lowered his voice even further and whispered, "Mac told him who we are."

Heyes flopped back and closed his eyes. "Just once. Just once couldn't a job go well?"

A loud, rasping snore erupted from Mac followed by several smaller snorts.

"What're we gonna do?"

Brown eyes opened. "We're gonna get outta here, right now."

"Heyes, you ain't fit to ride."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Curry shook his head. "We'll go into Grand Lake, deny everything, and leave as soon as we get you on your feet."

"Not gonna work. Mac'll go to the nearest law and have them pull paper on us." Another snore tore the darkness.

A chuckle escaped from Kid Curry. "Heyes, are you forgettin'? Those wanted posters don't have a likeness of us."

"Are you forgetting the railroad putting up that fat reward will send out someone who can identify us on sight?" hissed Heyes.

The smile slid off Curry's face. "I did kinda forget that part," he said sheepishly.

"Well, that's the part that'll get us killed."

"What if we asked the governor for help?"

"Are you crazy? The governor can't admit he knows us. He'd be drummed outta office." Heyes ran a hand through his dirty hair.

"What good is doing all these jobs for the governor if he won't lift a finger to help us?"

"You forget about the amnesty, too?"

"What amnesty? We've done everything we were asked to and I don't see any," the Kid paused as Mac's snoring reached a crescendo before he rolled over and mumbled, "damned amnesties."

Heyes sighed loudly. "What if we just gave up?"

"Turn ourselves in?!"

"No, just gave up going after amnesty." Heyes waited watching his partner carefully. "What if we just up and disappear? Vanish. Never to be seen again."

"You mean leave the country." The Kid rubbed his chin thoughtfully then dropped his hand. "No."

"No?"

"No, Heyes. I ain't leavin' the country. This is my home. I flat-out don't want to go."

Heyes nodded. "Me either. It's settled then. We go into Grand Lake." He grinned. "Heck, the worst that'll happen, we'll have to bust outta another jail call."

The Kid smiled back. "It wouldn't be the first time."

XXX


	11. Chapter 11

"Just let me sit a horse. I'll be fine," growled Heyes as the Kid secured his lariat lacing it across his partner's chest. Heyes was lying on his travois his injured foot nestled in the bedding taken from the cabin. It had taken the Kid and Doctor Minner the better part of the night to construct the two conveyances and most of the morning to force the two occupants into them.

Smiling down at his partner, Curry shook his head. "Give it up, Heyes. You'd just end up fallin' outta the saddle and I ain't picking your dusty ass up. I did enough of that yesterday." He glanced over at the doctor who was securing Mac to his own travois. "Just relax and enjoy the ride. At least you don't have to walk twenty-some miles in a pair of cowboy boots."

"Kid, I'm not sure we're doing the right thing here."

"I'm sure we are. You'll be sick all over again if we make a run for it. I ain't riskin' it."

Desperation etched Heyes' features. "You make a run for it then. You can circle back and bust me out later."

"And leave you with the good Doctor Minner to protect you from Mac? I don't think so."

"He's tied up!"

"Don't matter. Mac's already proven he's slipperier than a greased pig."

Frustrated, Heyes' snapped, "You're gonna be stubborn about this, ain't you?"

"Now you're thinkin' clearly." With a pat to Heyes' shoulder, the Kid stood up and turned to Minner. "You ready, Doc?"

"I believe so, Mr. Curry," replied Minner leaving no doubt in anyone's mind he knew exactly who he was dealing with, "Mr. Lamford's as comfortable as I can make him." He stood up and dusted the dirt off his knees. His formerly good suit was dirty, rumpled, and stretched in ways he could've never had imagined. His wife was going to have a fit when she saw it and him. Strangely, he was enjoying this adventure. Who would believe he'd meet Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes? And, discover he rather liked them?

Mac frowned up at him. So the Doc believed him about these two crooks after all? He could use that. "Thanks Doc." With his hand, Mac gestured for the doctor to lean down. Lowering his voice, he whispered. "You better keep an eye on those two. They might seem like nice fellows but Curry's a killer and Heyes is somethin' worse. They're gonna try somethin', mark my words."

"And what exactly do you expect me to do if they do? I'm a doctor, not a sheriff," replied Dr. Minner curtly before he straightened up and walked away leaving a stymied Mac staring after him.

The Kid untied the horses and passed the bay's reins to the Doc. "I know you're happy to be walkin' but keep it slow n' easy. I ain't lookin' forward to the blisters I'll be raisin'."

With a grin, Minner took the reins. "Turn about's fair play, Mr. Curry, although my blisters aren't on my feet."

Curry smiled. "Call me Kid. I figure we ought to be on a first name basis by now, you fixin' up Heyes and all. But there'll be fireworks if you use Heyes', he ain't fond of it."

"That so, Hannibal?" sneered Mac.

"Nice going, Kid," said Heyes softly with an extreme eye roll. Turning to Mac, he smiled. "That's right, Cyrus Elwood."

Both Minner and Curry laughed.

XXX

The going did indeed prove to be slow and the sun was on its descent before the small party stopped for a rest in a meadow filled with dried grasses and a salt bed where a pond had existed before the summer's parching heat. The Kid and the doctor helped the wounded men out of the travois and sat them down on the grass in the broad shade of a blue spruce. Curry passed around the last of the dried porcupine and offered each man cold, canned beans or potatoes he'd brought from the cabin then sat down and pulled off his boots with a sigh of relief. Rubbing each foot, he could feel the swell of the blisters through his socks. Big, puffy clouds scuttled overhead and darkness on the horizon grew steadily as they ate their paltry meal.

"It appears we may finally have some relief from the heatwave, gentlemen," said Dr. Minner gesturing towards the sky.

"We better hope not," grunted Mac.

The doctor was puzzled by the comment. "Why do you say that?"

"Those are cumulus clouds." Heyes shifted his hips and winced at the pain it caused in his foot.

"I am familiar with cumulus clouds, Mr. Heyes, and I believe they mean rain," smiled Minner.

Heyes ignored Mac's derisive snort. "They also mean thunderheads are building and that means lightning."

The Kid chimed in, "What Heyes and Mac are tryin' to say is there's so much fuel in the forest even one unlucky strike could touch off a firestorm."

"Surely the odds are in our favor that won't happen." Discomforted, Dr. Minner stood up and shaded his eyes with one hand looking towards the darkness to the west.

Heyes smiled. "You a gambling man, Doc?"

"I've been known to tempt Lady Luck once in a while."

"How 'bout a few hands while we rest up?" Heyes withdrew a pack of cards from his chest pocket. "Stud?"

"What're we playin' for?" asked Mac as he put down his can of cold beans. "Ain't worth playin' if'n we're playin' for nothin'."

"Wait a second, Methodists don't gamble, do they?" asked Curry.

"You got somethin' against Methodists, boy?" Mac scowled at the Kid and added, "Ain't gamblin' if'n we don't bet."

"No sir. Just thought pleasure-seeking was against the rules," said Curry, sheepishly.

"Pleasure's not important to Mac," smirked Heyes.

Mac scowled at him. "Only pleasure I seek is seein' your dead body picked over by the crows."

Minner had sat quietly through the bickering, but now spoke up loudly. "Chits," he said. "We can use chits for chips." He retrieved his bag and rummaged inside it coming up with a small pad of paper. He began tearing off small strips.

"So we win paper?" ask the Kid.

The doctor stopped tearing paper and pondered the question. "We'll play for questions. Winner gets to ask one question of the rest of us. Honest answers only."

The Kid and Heyes shared a cautious glance. "I don't know…" started Curry.

"We already know who you are," snapped Mac. "What the hell else matters?"

Heyes couldn't help a sarcastic grin. "He's got us there, Kid. All right, I'm in."

Minner dealt the cards with the familiarity of a longstanding player. The good doctor played well and with great confidence causing Heyes to rethink his question. Heyes won the first hand but not as easily as he'd expected. "I gotta ask, Doc. Where'd you learn to play cards like that?"

Mac snorted. " _That's_ your question?"

"Yes, it is." Heyes gave the doctor a kind smile. "I'm curious. You play well, better than most."

"Thank you, Mr. Heyes."

"Please, it's just Heyes. Mister sounds like my pa."

"Well, Heyes, that's the wonderful thing about growing up in a large city like Chicago, you meet many people from many walks of life. Some of them even teach you a thing or two if you are willing to learn. Suffice it to say, I found my childhood illuminating."

"That doesn't really answer the question, Doc," said the Kid.

"Yes, I suppose I should be more specific. I was taught the finer points of poker by Miss Kitty LeRoy while she was visiting my fair city with her fourth husband."

"Kitty LeRoy? Didn't her husband end up killin' her?" asked the Kid.

"That was her fifth husband. Dear Kitty had difficulty with the confinement of marriage," said Minner wistfully before clearing his throat. "However, she was a wonderful mentor to a young man."

"I'll bet she was," said Mac snidely, noting the dreamy look in the doctor's eyes. "How'd a nob like you fall in with a woman like that?"

"You'd be surprised, Mr. Lamford," smiled the doctor, "what a checkered past I have but, luckily for me, medical school was a saving grace as was Miss Kitty, rest her soul."

Heyes took the cards and performed an elaborate shuffle. "Shall we?"

"One more hand, then we need to get a move on," Curry firmly stated. "I'm not stumblin' around out here in the dark."

Surprisingly, Mac won the hand after a lucky draw. He looked around at the other three players with a mean, assessing glance before asking, "I wanna know about this amnesty deal for you and Heyes, Curry."

The two ex-outlaw partners shared shocked glances as Dr. Minner looked back and forth between them and Mac. "Amnesty?" he asked. "Have you been offered amnesties?"

"It's my question, Doc, and I'll be havin' an answer," growled Mac.

"We can't talk about that," Heyes sat back and crossed his arms.

Mac frowned. "So you're welchin' on me?"

"No, ask us somethin' else," replied Curry.

"Ain't nothin' else I want to know. That's my question and you promised to answer it."

"Come now, Mr. Lamford, it is obvious they are not at liberty to answer you. I suspect some legal issue. Am I correct, sirs?"

"Yeah, Doc, you could say that." The Kid coldly stared at Mac, waiting for him to push it further.

"So someone really has gone and offered you two amnesties? I heard somethin' about the state of Wyoming coming up with a crackpot idea like that, just didn't believe anyone'd be stupid enough to see it through." Mac grimly chuckled. "That's why it's a big secret, Doc, if'n the press got a hold of it, the governor'd be burned at the stake."

"Well, if you already know about it, then I suppose no answer is needed. Shall we move on, gentlemen?" Minner stood up and offered his hand to Mac, pulling him up and close to him. "I would suggest you stop baiting these men, sir. I, for one, prefer not to tangle with desperadoes."

Heyes let the Kid take his arm and support some of his weight as he hopped back towards the horses. Under his breath he said, "Dammit, Kid, he must've heard us talking. If he shoots off his big mouth, we're finished."

"C'mon, we already know we could be finished. Let's just get you to Grand Lake and then we can figure out our next moves."

Mac meekly allowed the Doctor to aid him, leaning on him more than necessary. He'd been prepared to shove him aside but had hesitated when he felt the unmistakable bulge of a gun under the doctor's frock coat. The damn fool had been armed this whole time-he was just too yellow to act! He waited until they were nearly to the horses before he whipped his arm around Minner's neck, viciously twisted him to one side, and seized the concealed Derringer.

Heyes and the Kid swung around. Curry went for his gun but stopped when he saw the unwavering gun pointed directly at Heyes' heart. Instead, he slowly lifted his arms in surrender. Heyes stood next to him, his hands at his side, refusing to submit.

"Hands up, Heyes. Drop your weapons, both of you," grunted Mac.

The Kid started to reach down, but Heyes grabbed his arm and said, "No."

"Ain't that kinda dumb with me pointin' this here gun at you, ladylike as it might be?" Mac tightened his grip on Minner, who stood as still as possible.

"It's plain to me you're gonna kill us once we put our weapons down. This way, you kill me and the Kid's gonna kill you and you'll never see that reward money," Heyes stated blandly.

"That so?" Mac looked from one partner to the other. "Guess you're right." Shifting the gun, he pointed it at Minner's temple. "You say you ain't killers-you willin' to risk the Doc's life? Put down your damn guns."

Panic lit Minner's face. "Please…I have a family."

Heyes' eyes narrowed. "Mac had a family too. Didn't you, Mac?"

The Kid whispered, "Heyes, don't…" but his partner kept talking.

Heyes stared at Mac. "Yeah, that's right, you weren't the only one eavesdropping."

Giving a throaty growl, Mac gripped Minner's throat even tighter.

"See, Doc, Mac here blames us for his family's death."

Minner's eyes widened.

"No, Doc, the Kid and I didn't kill them but a gang of outlaws did and, to Mac, that's the same thing."

The snub-nosed barrel of the Derringer started to shake as Mac's rage grew. "Don't you talk about my family, Heyes." He voice broke. "Shut him up, Curry, or I swear…"

"Heyes," hissed the Kid.

"See, Doc, what Mac doesn't want to own up to is he rode off for his own selfish reasons and left his poor family to fend for themselves." Heyes gave an ugly smile. "Why, some folks might even say he's responsible."

As Mac screamed aloud and began to pull the trigger, Minner ground his heel down on his captor's wounded foot and, released, dove to the ground. Heyes shoved aside his partner. Unbalanced, the Kid drew and fired as Mac snapped off a shot. The Derringer's bullet whizzed by Heyes harmlessly, and everyone froze for a moment before a blossom of blood erupted on Mac's chest. He looked down at it, puzzled, before slowly crumpling to the ground.

Stunned, the Kid looked down at his hand and then at his partner. "Are you all right? Why'd you shove me?! I couldn't get a decent shot!"

"I was afraid he might go for you first." replied Heyes. "I'm fine."

"You ain't gonna be when I get done with you. Heyes, what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

"I'm sorry, Kid. I didn't know what else to do. He was going to kill you the second you dropped your gun."

Holstering his Colt, the Kid ran a hand through his hair. "Sheesh, some day you're gonna be the death of me."

A broad grin lit Heyes' face. "But not today."

They walk together to where Minner sat on the ground cradling Mac's head in his lap. He glanced up at the two men and shook his head silently.

Pain flashed across Curry's face and he knelt down next to the dying man.

Mac smiled weakly. "Guess I make three, huh?"

"Dammit, Mac, you left me no choice," said the Kid.

Mac weakly shook his head. "You always have a choice. I made mine, you made yours." His gaze shifted to Heyes. "I'll see you in Hell, you bastard!"

"It didn't have to end like this, Mac," said Heyes, sadly.

A coughing fit overtook Mac and his chest heaved with the effort. "Yes," he whispered. "It did."

"Is there anyone we should contact, Mr. Lamford? Do you have a next of kin?" asked Dr. Minner.

"Ain't nobody left but me," said Mac with his last breath. The three men solemnly watched as the light faded slowly from Mac's eyes and death claimed him.

Minner laid him down gently and got to his feet. "It was self-defense. There was nothing you could do."

The Kid gave him the ghost of a smile. "Somehow that don't make me feel any better."

"What do we do with the body?" asked Minner.

Heyes swung his head away from Mac and towards the doctor. "What do you mean?"

Minner looked at him. "Well, we can't take him into Grand Lake, you'll be arrested."

"We're still wanted men, Doc," said the Kid slowly. Heyes just kept watching the man wondering what he was getting at and hoping he knew.

"I know that and that's what worries me. A trial might prove, shall we say, fatal for you."

"What are you suggesting?" said Heyes.

"We give him a proper, Christian burial as best we can. We'll lay him and this whole, ugly story to rest. I will go home to my lovely wife and you will go on your way to amnesty." Minner stooped down to pick up his gun and slipped it inside his coat. "But I don't want to hear about you two getting into any trouble in the future. Understood?"

"Understood," grinned Heyes.

XXX

"Rest in peace, Mac Lamford," finished the Kid.

"Amen."

"Amen."

Together, the three men turned their backs on the pile of stacked rocks and walked over towards the horses.

"One thing I don't understand, Doc. You had a gun on you the whole time. You could've gotten the drop on us a bunch of times. Why didn't you try?" asked the Kid.

"I didn't want the complication, Mr. Curry," smiled Dr. Minner.

What do you mean?" asked the Kid.

"He means we're not the only ones with a past to put behind them," answered Heyes.

"Good day, gentlemen, and good luck." Dr. Minner picked up his medical bag and started down the trail to Grand Lake.

A flash of lightning split the sky followed by a distant peal of thunder rolling across the treetops as raindrops ricocheted in the dust.

The Kid looked at his partner. "You gonna be able to ride?"

"I can ride if I have to."

The Kid nodded. "Sit down, I'll get the horses." He unharnessed the animals from the travois and led them over to his best friend. "Now what do we do?"

"We go find Lom and see if the governor's still willing to give us an amnesty." Heyes struggled to his feet.

"If he's not?" asked the Kid as he helped Heyes into his saddle.

Heyes smiled widely as his partner mounted then he reined his horse around. "I hear the poker's good in Chicago."


End file.
